il'l 


± 


LONE  PINE 


Iftew  jfiction 

SMITH    BRUNT 

United  States  Navy.  By  WALDRON  K.  POST,  author 
of  "  Harvard  Stories,"  etc.  12°,  459  pages,  $1.50. 

"A  rattling  good  story  of  the  Old  Navy.  .  .  .  The  book 
recalls  Harry  Gringo  by  its  breadth  and  interest  of  plot ;  which 
means  it  is  a  first-class  sea  story.  It  is  not  an  imitation,  however. 
.  .  .  The  prevailing  thought  of  the  book  is  the  unity  of  aims, 
Heals  and  race  between  Englishmen  and  Americans,  and  this  idea  is 
brought  out  so  well  that,  even  though  the  reader  enjoys  the  story  of 
the  fierce  sea-fights,  he  deplores  the  shedding  of  blood  by  brothers' 
hands. " — Buffalo  Courier. 

BEARERS  OF  THE  BURDEN 

Being  Stories  of  Land  and   Sea.     By  Major  W.  P. 

DRURV,  Royal  Marines.     12°,  286  pages,  $1.00. 
"  Major  Drury's  stories  combine  pathos  and  humor  with  an  under- 
lying earnestness  that  betrays  a  clear  moral  vision.      The  whole 
volume  is  of  a  rare  and  wholesome  quality." — Chicago  Tribune. 

ROSALBA 

The  Story  of  Her  Development.  By  OLIVE  PRATT 
RAYNER  (Grant  Allen),  author  of  "  Flowers  and 
Their  Pedigrees,"  etc.  Hudson  Library,  No.  39. 
12°,  396  pages,  paper,  50  cts.  ;  cloth,  $1.00. 

"A  story  which  holds  the  reader  with  profound  interest  to  the 
closing  lines." — Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

ABOARD  "  THE  AMERICAN  DUCHESS  " 

By  HEADON  HILL.  Hudson  Library,  No.  41.  12°, 
paper,  50  cts.  ;  cloth,  $1.00. 

NOTE.— This  is  a  reprint  of  a  work  previously  published  under  the  title  of 
"  Queen  of  the  Night  " — with  certain  changes  of  names. 

"  lie  has  certainly  given  to  the  reading  public  a  capital  story  full 
of  action.  It  is  a  bright  novel  and  contains  many  admirable  chap- 
ters. Life  on  the  ocean  is  well  depicted,  many  exciting  episodes 
are  well  told,  and  it  will  interest  readers  of  all  classes." — Knox-ville 
Sentinel. 

THE  PRIEST'S  MARRIAGE 

By  NORA  VYNNE,  author  of  "  The  Blind  Artist's  Picture," 
etc.  Hudson  Library,  No.  42.  12°,  paper,  50  cts.  ; 
cloth,  $1.00. 

G.  I'.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 


LONE  PINE 

THE  STORY  OF  A  LOST  MINE 
BY  R.  B.  TOWNSHEND 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK  &  LONDON 
fmtcfcerbocfter  press 
1900 


COPYRIGHT,  1899 

BY 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


Unfcfeerbocber  press,  Hew  Rorfc 


TO 
MY  FRIENDS  IN  SANTIAGO 

RED   AND   WHITE 

AND 
IN   MEMORY   OF 

A  BRINDLED  BULLDOG 


2138486 


I  HAVE  to  thank  Seftor  F.  de  Arteaga  y  Pereira,  Reader  of 
Spanish  in  the  University  of  Oxford,  for  the  Spanish  version  of 
Heine's  poem  which  appears  in  Chapter  XXIX. 


A  lone  pine  stands  in  the  Northland 

On  a  bald  and  barren  height. 
He  sleeps,  by  the  snows  enfolded 

In  a  mantle  of  wintry  white. 
He  dreams  of  a  lonely  palm-tree, 

Afar  in  the  morning-land, 
Consumed  with  unspoken  longing 

In  a  waste  of  burning  sand. 

After  Heine. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — INDIAN  LOVERS i 

II. — A  LONE  HAND 

III.— BLASTING  THE  ACEQUIA 

IV. — A  RACE  WITH  A  MULE   .       .       .       .       . 

V. — "  Ojos  AZULES  NO  MIRAN  "   .... 

VI. — AN  OLD  WOUND  REOPENED  .... 

VII. — DESDEMONA  LISTENS 

VIII. — CHILDREN  OF  THE  SUN 

ix. — A  SQUAW  FOR  A  FEE 

X. — AN  ELOPEMENT 

XI. — MY  DUCATS  AND  MY  DAUGHTER   . 

XII. — PACIFYING  A  GHOST 

XIII. — A  GIRL'S  TEARS       ....... 

XIV.— A  STERN  CHASE 

XV. — THE  ROD  DESCENDS        . 

xvi.— THE  FEE  is  ACCEPTED 

XVII. — MADAM  WHAILAHAY 

XVIII. —HUNTING  A  TRAIL 

XIX. — RUN  TO  GROUND 

XX.— THE  WOLF'S  LAIR 

XXI. — DRIVING  A  BARGAIN       ..... 

XXII.— A  WOUNDED  MAN 

XXIII.— A  PICNIC  PARTY 

XXIV.— WEIGHING  THE  SILVER  . 


Contents 

CHAITER  PAGK 

XXV.— A  PREHISTORIC  HEARTH         .        .        .  323 

XXVI.— THE  SNAKE'S  VERDICT   ....  340 

XXVII.— AULD  ACQUAINTANCE 353 

XXVIII.— ELEVEN  TO  ONE S66 

XXIX.— PEACE  WITH  HONOUR 384 


LONE  PINE 


LONE  PINE 


CHAPTER  I 

INDIAN   LOVERS 

A  MOON  just  past  its  first  quarter  was  shining  on 
the  Indian  pueblo  of  Santiago,  so  that  one  side 
of  the  main  street  (it  only  boasted  four)  was  in  deep 
shadow,  while  on  the  other  the  mud-built  houses  were 
made  almost  beautiful  by  the  silver  light.  The  walls 
on  the  bright  side  were  curiously  barred  with  the 
slanting  shadows  cast  by  low,  broad  ladders,  which  led 
from  storey  to  storey  of  the  terrace-like  buildings,  and 
by  the  projecting  ends  of  the  beams  which  supported 
their  flat  roofs.  Outside  each  house,  clear  away  from 
the  wall,  stood  a  great  clay  oven,  in  shape  exactly  like 
a  gigantic  beehive  as  tall  as  a  man.  In  the  deepest 
shadow  on  the  dark  side  of  the  street,  between  one  of 
these  ovens  and  the  wall,  something  was  crouching. 
The  street  was  deserted,  for  the  Indians,  who  practise 
the  precept ' '  early  to  bed  and  early  to  rise, ' '  had  long 
ago  lain  down  to  sleep  on  their  sheepskins.  But  if 
anyone  had  gone  up  to  the  crouching  something,  he 
would  have  found  a  }7oung  Indian,  with  a  striped 
blanket  drawn  completely  over  and  around  him  so  as 

i 


2  Lone  Pine 

to  conceal  everything  except  the  keen  eyes  that  peered 
watchfully  out  of  the  folds.  There  was  no  one  to  dis- 
turb him,  however,  and  the  bright  moon  of  New  Mexi- 
can skies  sank  lower  and  lower  in  the  west,  and  yet  he 
remained  there  motionless,  except  when  now  and  again 
the  night  air,  growing  colder,  caused  the  blanket  to  be 
gathered  more  closely  to  the  body  it  was  protecting. 

Just  as  the  moon  dipped  behind  the  western  hills,  the 
figure  sprang  up  and  darted  forward.  The  long,  un- 
tiring watch  was  over  at  last.  From  a  hole  in  the 
opposite  wall,  a  good  deal  higher  than  a  man's  head 
from  the  ground,  a  little  hand  and  wrist  were  seen 
waving. 

In  a  moment  the  boy — he  was  hardly  more — was 
underneath.  He  threw  back  the  blanket  from  his 
head,  and  it  fell  down  to  his  waist,  where  it  was  sup- 
ported by  a  belt,  leaving  his  body  and  arms  free.  His 
answering  hand  crept  up  the  cold,  rough  surface  of  the 
wall  till  at  its  utmost  stretch  he  felt  a  smooth,  warm 
skin  rub  against  his  finger-tips,  and  instantly  the  two 
hands  interlocked. 

"  Is  that  you,  Felipe  ?  "  breathed  a  low  voice  from 
inside. 

"  Yes,  my  love,  it  is,"  came  back  a  whisper  as  low 
from  the  Indian  boy  who  had  waited  so  long  and  so 
patiently  for  his  sweetheart's  signal.  "  Why  did  you 
look  so  sad,"  he  continued,  "  when  you  gave  me  the 
signal  to-day  ?  Is  there  anything  new  ?  " 

"Oh,  Felipe,  yes,"  she  sighed.  "  I  do  not  know 
how  to  tell  you.  My  father  spoke  to  me  this  morning 
and  said  it  should  be  in  three  days.  He  has  sent  for 
the  padre  to  come.  In  three  days,  Felipe  !  What 
shall  I  do?  I  shall  die!" 

The  young  Indian  groaned  under  his  breath.     "  In 


Indian   Lovers  3 

three  days  !  "  he  said.  ' '  Ah,  that  is  too  cruel  !  Is  it 
really  true  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,"  came  the  whispered  answer.  "  My 
father  said  he  would  beat  me  to  death  if  I  did  not 
consent.  I  should  not  so  much  mind  being  beaten, 
Felipe— rit  would  be  for  you  ;  but  he  would  kill  me,  I 
believe.  I  am  frightened." 

Felipe  felt  the  shiver  that  ran  through  the  finger-tips 
clasped  in  his.  "  Do  not  be  so  afraid,  Josefa,"  he  said, 
trying  to  keep  up  her  courage.  "  Can  you  not  tell  the 
padre  that  you  hate  old  Iguacio  and  that  you  will  not 
marry  him  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  she,  "but  he  will  say,  'Oh,  non- 
sense, nonsense  ;  girls  are  always  afraid  like  that.'  As 
long  as  my  father  is  cacique  the  padre  is  bound  to  please 
him  to  make  sure  of  getting  his  dues.  He  '11  do  what 
my  father  wants.  He  will  not  mind  me." 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  for  us  to  do,"  said  the  boy; 
' '  we  must  run  away  together. ' ' 

"But  where?"  said  she,  "and  how?  They  will 
catch  us,  and  they  will  beat  us,  and  they  will  marry 
me  all  the  same  to  that  ugly  old  Ignacio.  I  hate  him 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  ;  and  if  ever  he  dares 
to  try  to  master  me,  I  '11  do  him  a  mischief." 

"  Ah,  but  he  is  going  to  bribe  your  father  with  three 
cows,"  said  her  lover  disconsolately.  "  He  can  do  it, 
too,  easy  enough.  He  is  the  very  richest  man  of  all 
the  Eagles,  and  I  suppose  the  Eagles  are  the  strongest 
family  in  the  pueblo  next  to  the  Snakes.  Anyway  the 
cacique  always  favours  them,  so  he  has  a  double  reason 
for  wanting  to  hand  you  over  to  that  old  miser.  Alas  ! 
I  have  no  cows  to  give  him,  not  even  one  little  calf. 
We  Turquoises  are  so  few  and  so  poor  !  The  cacique 
would  never  hear  of  your  marrying  one  of  us.  He  is  so 


4  Lone  Pine 

proud  of  having  married  a  Snake  himself,  that  he  thinks 
nobody  good  enough  for  his  daughter  who  is  n't  able 

— "     He  was  silenced  by  the  girl. 

' '  Hush  !  ' '  said  she  quickly  in  a  smothered  tone,  ' '  I 
hear  him  moving  about  in  the  farther  room  "  ;  and  the 
Indian  lad  listened,  motionless  as  a  statue,  with  all  the 
wary  concentration  of  his  race  in  the  moment  of  danger. 

The  red  Indian  has  often  been  represented  as  apa- 
thetic. He  is  not.  His  loves  and  his  hatreds  are  in- 
tense, only,  both  by  birth  and  bringing  up,  he  is 
endowed  with  extraordinary  power  of  controlling  their 
expression.  Underneath  their  outward  self-restraint 
these  simple  folk  of  Santiago  were  capable  enough  of 
feeling  all  the  emotions  of  humanity  pulsing  through 
their  veins  and  plucking  at  their  heart-strings.  Felipe 
and  Josefa,  exchanging  hand-clasps  and  vows  of  fidelity 
through  a  hole  in  an  adobe  wall,  were  as  passionate  and 
as  miserable  as  if  the  little  drama  which  meant  so  much 
to  them  was  being  played  on  the  wider  stage  of  the 
great  world  outside.  When  the  girl  whispered  ' '  hush  ' ' 
to  her  lover,  both  held  their  breath  and  listened,  each 
conscious  of  the  pulse  that  throbbed  in  the  other's 
hand.  It  was  a  noise  from  inside  the  house  that  had 
startled  the  girl.  She  could  hear  that  someone  in  a 
farther  room  had  got  up  and  was  throwing  a  stick  of 
wood  on  the  fire.  With  a  gentle  pressure  her  finger- 
tips were  withdrawn  from  her  lover's,  and  her  hand 
disappeared  back  through  the  hole.  Felipe  sank  down 
into  the  crouching  position  he  had  been  in  till  she 
came,  drawing  the  blanket  over  him  for  concealment 
and  warmth  as  before.  For  nearly  half  an  hour  he  re- 
mained perfectly  still.  Then  a  slight  rubbing  on  the 
inner  side  of  the  wall  became  audible,  and  presently 
looking  up  he  saw  not  a  hand  only,  but  a  whole  arm 


Indian   Lovers  5 

reaching  down  to  him  from  the  opening.  Up  he 
sprang,  and  stretching  himself  on  tiptoe  against  the 
wall  he  succeeded  in  bringing  his  lips  up  to  the  little 
hand,  which  he  kissed  silently  again  and  again. 

"  It  was  my  father,"  said  she.  "  He  must  be  asleep 
again  now  ;  he  lay  down  again  quite  soon.  They  put 
a  new  stone,"  she  continued,  "  in  the  hand-mill  to-day, 
for  I  have  quite  worn  out  the  old  one  with  grinding 
corn  on  it  for  my  step-mother.  But  they  have  brought 
the  old  one  into  the  storeroom  here,  and  I  have  taken 
it  to  stand  on,  so  that  I  can  see  you  now  if  I  take  my 
hand  in  and  put  my  head  to  the  hole.  But,  Felipe,  let 
us  settle  what  to  do. ' ' 

"  I  've  been  thinking,"  said  Felipe,  "  we  must  run  ; 
we  must.  Of  course  it  is  no  use  for  us  to  go  to  our 
padre.  He  is  on  their  side,  just  as  you  say,  so  we  will 
not  go  to  him.  We  will  try  another  padre,  who  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  pueblo  and  won't  care  for  your 
father.  I  '11  tell  you.  L,et  us  go  to  Padre  Trujillo  at 
Ensenada.  They  say  he  is  good  and  kind  to  his  In- 
dians. He  will  marry  us.  I  have  the  money  to  pay 
his  fee.  When  we  are  once  married,  my  joy,  we  are 
safe.  They  cannot  separate  us  when  the  padre  has 
joined  us  for  ever.  They  cannot  do  anything  to  us 
then  ;  our  own  padre  himself  would  forbid  it." 

"We  would  be  safe  then,  indeed,"  sighed  Josefa. 
"Oh,  if  we  could  only  manage  it!  What  shall  we 
do  for  a  horse  ?  the  horse  herd  is  away  in  the  sierra, 
and  they  will  not  bring  it  down  till  Sunday." 

"  Sunday  will  be  too  late  for  us,"  said  Felipe  sadly. 
"  We  want  a  horse  now,  at  once  ;  I  could  go  out  to  the 
horse  herd  and  get  my  father's  horse  if  he  would  give 
me  leave  to  get  him.  But  you  know  this  new  captain 
of  the  horse  herd  is  that  bullying  Rufino  of  the  Eagles. 


6  Lone   Pine 

He  and  his  helpers  have  the  herd  now  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Cerro  de  las  Viboras,  the  Mountain  of  the  Snakes. 
I  'ra  sure  they  'd  never  let  me  have  the  horse  unless 
my  father  gave  them  the  order  or  came  to  fetch  him 
himself.  But  he  won't  do  that,  I  know  ;  the  horse  is 
thin  after  the  cold  winter,  and  he  wants  him  to  eat 
green  grass  now  and  grow  fat.  It  won't  do." 

"  Ask  El  Americano,  then,"  suggested  the  girl 
quickly,  as  if  a  sudden  thought  had  struck  her.  "  Yes, 
why  don't  you  ask  him  ?  Ask  Don  Estevan  to  lend 
you  a  horse  or  a  mule ;  you  work  for  him,  and  he  seems 
so  friendly  with  you,  perhaps  he  '11  let  you  have  one 
of  his." 

"  What  !  "  exclaimed  the  young  Indian,  "  ask  him  ! 
Ask  Turquoise-eyes  to  lend  a  horse  !  Ask  Sooshiuamo 
to  do  that  !  That  's  no  sort  of  use."  He  spoke  hope- 
lessly, as  if  surprised  at  her  even  thinking  of  such  a 
thing. 

El  Americano,  as  the  girl  had  first  called  him,  other- 
wise known  as  Don  Estevan  or  Sooshiuamo,  was  a 
solitary  white  man,  a  prospector  who  had  obtained  per- 
mission to  spend  the  past  winter  in  the  village  of  the 
Indians  of  Santiago,  and  by  them  was  often  referred 
to  as  El  Americano,  the  American  par  excellence, 
because  he  was  the  only  one  within  fifty  miles. 

"  You  might  just  ask  him  once,  though,"  she  per- 
sisted, in  spite  of  Felipe's  attitude.  "  Oh  yes,  Felipe, 
go  and  ask  him.  Do  try.  Go  now.  It  can't  do  any 
harm  even  if  he  won't." 

"  But  I  know  he  won't,"  returned  the  boy,  uncon- 
vinced ;  "  and  I  shall  have  to  tell  him  what  it  's  for, 
and  if  I  go  and  tell  Sooshiuamo  our  secret,  what  's  to 
prevent  him  telling  the  chiefs  ?  He  's  very  friendly 
with  them  all." 


Indian   Lovers  7 

"  Oh,  but  of  course  you  must  n't  tell  him  our  plan," 
she  answered;  "  we  must  keep  that  dark.  But  he  's 
very  kind  to  all  our  folk.  Perhaps  he  'd  do  it  for  us 
out  of  kindness.  It 's  all  out  of  kindness,  is  n't  it,"  that 
he  's  going  to  make  the  rocks  fly  away  out  of  the 
acequia  to-morrow  ?  They  say  he  's  going  to  do  a 
miracle  for  the  pueblo.  I  heard  my  father  talking 
about  it." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that,"  said  Felipe  ;  "  I  know  he  told 
me  himself  he  would  make  the  rocks  jump  out  of  the 
ditch,  and  that  then  we  should  have  twice  as  much 
water  as  ever  we  had  before.  I-  know  he  's  a  good 
friend  to  us.  But  I  know,  too,  he  hates  ever  to  lend 
any  of  his  animals  to  any  of  us.  He  thinks  we  would 
ride  them  to  death  if  he  did.  I  will  try  him,  though, 
anyway.  I  will  beg  very  hard.  Don't  be  afraid,  dear 
heart ;  I  will  get  one  somehow,  if  you  will  really  come 
— yes,  if  I  have  to  take  one  of  the  Mexicans'-  horses." 

"  Oh  no,  not  that  !  "  cried  she.  "  They  will  shoot 
you  or  hang  you  if  you  touch  their  horses.  Don't  do 
it.  I  will  not  go  if  you  take  a  horse  of  the  Mexicans; 
I  would  rather  go  afoot." 

"  No,  dear  heart,  you  could  n't.  It  is  n't  possible. 
It  is  ten  leagues  to  Ensenada  from  here,  and  we  must 
do  it  between  moonset  and  daylight,  or  they  will  catch 
us.  Do  not  talk  of  going  afoot.  Trust  me,  I  will  get 
a  horse.  But  you  will  really  come,  Josefa  mia  f  Do 
you  really  mean  it  ?  What  other  woman  would  be  so 
brave  ?  ' ' 

"  I  do  mean  it,  indeed,"  she  answered.  "  Oh,  how 
I  wish  we  could  be  married  here  in  our  own  church  by 
the  padre  !  but  my  father  would  n't  hear  of  it.  He 
would  n't  even  let  me  speak  to  you,  you  know,  or  let 
me  go  out  without  being  watched." 


8  Lone  Pine 

"Yes,  I  wish  we  could,"  said  the  young  Indian 
wistfully.  "  I  spoke  to  my  father  to  ask  for  you  for 
me,  but  he  only  said,  '  We  are  too  poor.  It  is  no  use. 
We  have  only  one  horse  and  two  cows.  Ignacio  has 
several  horses  and  thirty  cows.'  As  if  that  was  a  rea- 
son, when  I  want  you  so  much  !  "  he  added  indignantly. 
"  If  I  had  the  whole  world  I  would  give  it  to  Salvador, 
and  he  might  be  cacique  of  it  all,  if  he  would  only  let 
me  have  you. ' '  He  drew  himself  up  to  the  wall  again 
and  kissed  the  little  warm  hand  eagerly.  ' '  My  sweet- 
heart !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  I  shall  die  if  I  do  not  get 
you  !  Oh,  if  I  could  only  tear  down  this  hateful  wall  ! 
How  can  I  talk  to  you  properly  when  I  cannot  see 
you  ?  May  not  I  get  in  by  the  terrace  roof  ?  Let  me 
try." 

"  Hush,  Felipe,"  she  said.  "  Don't  be  foolish,  you 
silly  boy.  You  would  be  sure  to  be  heard,  and  then 
everything  will  be  ruined.  You  must  be  patient." 
Here  she  gave  his  hand  a  little  squeeze,  which  of 
course  had  j  ust  the  contrary  effect  to  her  advice,  for  he 
kissed  the  fingers  with  redoubled  ardour.  Then  he 
broke  in — 

"  But  if  I  can't  get  in  without  disturbing  them,  how 
will  you  be  able  to  get  out  ?  ' ' 

"  Oh,  I  can  manage  that,"  said  the  girl.  "  I  will 
slip  into  this  storeroom  when  they  are  asleep,  as  I 
always  do,  and  from  here  I  can  get  through  the  trap- 
door into  the  room  above,  and  so  out  on  to  the  terrace. 
There  is  an  old  ladder  I  can  get  up  by. ' ' 

The  villages  of  the  Pueblo  Indians  are  built  in  ter- 
races, each  house-storey  standing  back  from  the  one 
below  it  like  a  flight  of  gigantic  steps.  From  terrace 
to  terrace  people  ascend  by  ladders,  and  many  of  the 
lower  rooms  are  without  any  door  but  a  trap- door  in 


Indian   Lovers  9 

the  ceiling.  The  system  is  a  relic  of  the  times  when 
their  villages  were  castles  for  defence  against  their 
deadly  enemies,  the  marauding  Navajos  and  Apaches. 

"How  brave  you  are,  Josefita  mia!"  he  cried. 
"  Will  you  really  dare  to  run  away  from  them,  and 
come  with  me  ?  How  sweet  it  will  be  !  we  shall  be  to- 
gether for  the  first  time — think  of  it !  Oh,  I  will  make 
you  happy,  I  will  indeed  !  " 

"  If  they  rob  me  of  you,  I  shall  die,"  said  the  girl 
in  a  low,  sad  voice.  "  One  thing,  Felipe,  I  promise 
you,  I  will  not  be  Ignacio's  wife.  Never  !  You  need 
not  fear  that." 

"  Oh,  my  darling,"  he  sighed,  "  how  can  I  be  con- 
tent with  that  ?  I  want  you  for  my  very  own.  In  my 
eyes  you  are  more  beautiful  than  the  saints  in  the 
church,  and  they  are  not  more  wise  and  good  than 
you.  Why  are  things  made  so  hard  for  us  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  said  softly  ;  "  nobody  seems 
to  be  so  unhappy  as  we  are.  But  we  can  comfort  each 
other  ever  so  much.  My  step-mother  will  make  me 
work  like  a  slave  all  to-morrow,  I  know,  but  I  shall 
have  the  thought  of  you  to  comfort  me. ' ' 

' '  My  sweetheart  ! ' '  said  he.  ' '  You  have  a  thousand 
times  more  to  bear  than  I  have.  But  I  will  try  to  think 
for  you.  You  must  take  some  rest.  I  know  how  they 
treat  you."  He  ground  his  teeth.  "We  must  part 
now,  but  I  will  come  to-morrow  night.  I  will  bring  a 
horse  if  I  can  get  one.  If  not,  we  have  one  day  left 
still,  and  we  will  settle  what  to  do." 

'  Till  to-morrow  night,  then,"  said  she. 
'  To-morrow  night  at  moonset,"  said  Felipe  ;  and 
with  many  final  pressures  of  hands,  each  one  intended 
to  be  the  very  last,  the  lovers  parted. 

Silently  the  moccasined  feet  of  the  boy  stole  up  the 


io  Lone  Pine 

wide  street,  as  he  ran  homeward  under  the  clear  star- 
light. He  lifted  the  latch  of  his  mother's  door  and 
entered.  The  fire  was  low,  and  he  put  on  another  stick 
of  cedar  wood,  and  lying  down  on  the  sheepskins  spread 
upon  the  floor,  covered  himself  with  his  blanket  and 
lay  still.  His  father,  old  Atanacio,  woke  up  when  he 
came  in,  but  said  nothing  to  him  ;  and  soon  sleep 
reigned  again  supreme  in  the  Indian  house.  The  In- 
dians are  early  risers  as  well  as  light  sleepers,  and 
before  daylight  they  were  up  and  stirring.  After  their 
breakfast  of  bread  and  dried  mutton,  Atanacio  said, 
"  When  you  have  taken  care  of  the  horses  of  the 
Americano,  Felipe,  you  had  better  weed  the  wheat 
patch  by  the  meadow.  Tomas  and  I  are  going  to  the 
patch  up  by  the  orchard." 

"  I  wanted,"  said  Felipe,  somewhat  timidly,  "  to  go 
to  the  herd  and  get  the  horse. ' ' 

"  Bad  luck  take  the  boy  !  "  snarled  the  old  Indian. 
"  What  does  he  want  with  the  horse  ?  Does  he  think 
we  keep  a  horse  for  him  to  wear  him  to  a  skeleton  fl)-- 
ing  round  the  country  on  him  ?  Let  him  be.  Let  him 
get  fat  on  the  green  grass. ' ' 

"  But  I  shall  want  him  if  I  go  with  Sooshiuamo," 
answered  Felipe  diplomatically.  "  The  Americano 
told  me  that  he  was  going  off  to  the  sierra  for  a  hunt 
to  get  meat  as  soon  as  he  had  made  the  rocks  jump  out 
of  the  acequia  for  us  as  he  has  promised.  He  said 
when  he  went  on  a  hunt  he  wanted  me  to  go  along  and 
help  him  to  pack  the  meat  down.  His  rifle  never 
misses,  and  then  when  he  kills  a  wild  bull  he  will  give 
me  meat — fresh  meat — father." 

"  Bad  luck  take  the  Americano,  too,"  growled  the 
old  man,  as  crossly  as  ever.  ' '  Whose  cattle  are  they 
that  he  wants  to  kill  ?  The  wild  cattle  in  the  mount- 


Indian  Lovers  n 

ain  are  the  children  of  ours,  though  they  have  no 
brands.  Why  should  he  come  and  kill  them  ?  " 

"  The  cacique  gave  him  leave,  father." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  he  says  so,"  was  the  ungracious 
response.  "  But  if  he  wants  to  take  you,  he  can  give 
you  a  beast  to  ride.  He  has  two  mules  besides  the 
mare,  and  they  do  nothing,  and  eat  maize  all  the  time. 
They  ought  to  be  fat." 

"  But  if  he  kills  a  bull  he  will  want  them  to  carry 
the  meat,"  said  Felipe.  "One  mule  can't  carry  it  all." 

"  Very  well,  then,  you  can  ride  one  of  his  up  and 
walk  back,"  snapped  the  stern  parent.  "  Want  to  ride 
the  horse  indeed  !  L,azy  young  rascal  !  Go  afoot." 

Felipe  felt  rebellious.  He  was  getting  to  be  a  man 
now,  and  his  father  still  wanted  to  treat  him  with  as 
little  consideration  as  a  child.  Instead  of  showing  in- 
creasing respect  to  his  tall  son,  the  old  man  grew  crosser 
and  crosser  every  day.  But  Felipe  had  never  rebelled 
against  the  parental  yoke,  though  he  had  said  to  him- 
self a  hundred  times  that  he  would  not  stand  it  any 
longer.  Yet  in  plotting  to  elope  with  Josefa  he  was 
plotting  a  rebellion  far  more  venturesome  against  the 
code  of  the  community  of  which  he  was  a  member. 

"  There  is  n't  much  hope  there,"  said  he  to  himself 
as  he  left  the  house,  "  but  I  knew  that  before.  Now 
for  Don  Estevan."  It  was  no  use  to  try  to  borrow 
from  any  of  the  other  Indians,  for  every  man  of  them 
had  his  horse  out  at  the  herd — except,  indeed,  the 
cacique  himself — and  the  herd  was  a  day's  journey 
away.  With  an  anxious  heart  the  boy  wended  his 
way  to  the  next  street  of  the  village,  which  was  the 
one  where  the  American  lodged. 


CHAPTER  II 

A   LONE   HAND 

THE  sun  was  just  rising  above  the  mesas,  or  flat- 
topped  hills  that  formed  the  eastern  horizon  of 
the  view  from  the  village,  as  Felipe  knocked  at  the 
door  in  the  row  of  mud-built  houses.  His  knock  was 
answered  by  a  fierce  growl  from  a  dog,  and  a  loud 
"Come  in"  in  Spanish  from  a  vigorous  human 
voice.  He  opened  the  door,  which  was  unlocked,  and 
stepped  cautiously  inside.  From  the  brown  blankets 
of  a  bed  that  stood  by  the  wall  a  brindled  bulldog  was 
emerging,  and  apparently  proposed  to  drive  the  in- 
truder out. 

"  Dry  up,  Faro,  will  you  ?  "  said  the  same  voice  in 
English,  addressing  the  dog.  "  Can't  you  see  it  's 
only  Felipe?" 

The  dog,  who  evidently  had  a  general  theory  that 
all  Indians  would  bear  watching,  lay  down  again  sulkily 
on  the  bed,  and  Felipe  advanced  to  the  fireplace.  The 
owner  of  the  voice  was  seated  on  a  low  stool,  bending 
over  the  coals,  with  his  back  to  the  door. 

"  Good-morning,  Don  Estevan  ;  how  are  you  ?  "  said 
Felipe  in  Spanish.  The  Santiago  people  spoke  an 
Indian  dialect  of  their  own  amongst  themselves,  but 
they  used  Spanish  as  a  medium  of  communication  with 
the  rest  of  the  world. 

12 


A   Lone   Hand  13 

Stephens,  for  that  was  the  American's  name,  which 
in  its  Spanish  form  had  become  Don  Estevan,  was  busy 
cooking,  and  he  answered  without  looking  round, 
"Good-morning,  Felipe;  how  goes  it?"  A  critic 
might  have  said  that  his  Spanish  accent  was  by  no 
means  perfect,  but  no  more  was  the  Indian's,  and  the 
pair  were  able  to  understand  one  another  readily 
enough,  which  was  the  main  point. 

How  had  this  American  come  to  be  living  here  by 
himself  in  a  remote  village  community  of  the  Pueblo 
Indians  ?  During  ten  long  years  of  search  for  gold  he 
had  wandered  from  Colorado  to  .California,  from  Cali- 
fornia to  Nevada,  from  Nevada  to  Montana,  and  from 
Montana  back  again  to  Colorado.  The  silver  boom  in 
Colorado  had  just  begun,  and  then  silver  mines  were 
all  the  talk  there.  Thereupon  Stephens  recollected  a 
story  he  had  heard  from  an  old  prospector  with  whom 
he  had  once  been  camped  in  Nevada  about  a  deserted 
silver  mine  in  New  Mexico  which  had  once  been 
worked  by  the  Spaniards,  with  the  forced  labour  of 
their  Indian  slaves,  and  had  since  lain  idle,  untouched, 
and  even  unknown.  When  the  Spanish  power  was 
broken,  and  the  Spaniards  driven  out,  the  Indians  had 
covered  up  the  place  and  sworn  never  to  disclose  its 
existence.  According  to  the  story,  the  sole  possessors 
of  the  secret  were  the  Pueblo  Indians  of  Santiago. 

To  Santiago  accordingly  Stephens  had  made  his  way 
in  the  hope  of  solving  the  mystery  of  the  secret  mine. 
This  hope,  however,  was  one  which  he  could  not  avow 
openly  at  the  first  meeting,  and  when  he  presented 
himself  before  the  chiefs  of  the  pueblo  it  was  of  gold 
and  not  of  silver  that  he  spoke.  He  told  them  of  his 
past  toils  and  adventures,  and  the  red  men  seemed  to 
take  a  fancy  to  him  on  the  spot.  Hitherto  these  In- 


14  Lone  Pine 

dians  had  persistently  enforced  their  right  to  prevent 
any  man  not  of  their  own  blood  from  taking  up  his 
abode  within  a  league  of  their  village  of  Santiago,  a 
right  secured  to  them  by  special  grant  from  the  kings 
of  Old  Spain.  What  was  there  about  this  man  that 
melted  their  obduracy  ?  Some  charm  they  must  have 
found  in  the  face  of  this  lone  wanderer,  for  him  alone 
among  white  men  had  they  admitted  as  a  permanent 
guest  to  the  hospitality  of  their  most  jealously  guarded 
sanctuary. 

Perhaps  there  was  something  of  pure  caprice  in  their 
choice  ;  perhaps  it  was  in  a  way  due  to  the  effect 
of  physical  contrast.  For  in  this  case  the  contrast 
between  the  white  man  and  the  red,  always  marked, 
was  as  striking  as  it  could  possibly  be.  He  was  as 
fair  as  they  were  dark.  With  his  white  skin,  his 
grey-blue  eyes,  and  his  curling  golden  hair,  worn 
long  in  frontier  fashion,  he  was  as  fair  as  any  Norse- 
man that  ever  boasted  his  descent  from  the  ancient 
Vikings. 

"  Gold,"  said  Tostado,  one  of  the  chiefs,  as  Stephens 
sat  in  the  midst  of  them  on  the  occasion  of  his  first 
visit  ;  "  we  ask  you  what  sort  of  a  life  you  live,  and 
you  answer  us  that  you  live  only  to  search  for  gold. 
Why,  here  is  the  gold.  You  carry  it  with  you  "  ;  and 
with  a  reverent  grace  the  fine  old  chief  laid  his  dark 
fingers  gently  on  the  long  yellow  locks  that  flowed 
down  from  under  the  prospector's  wide  sombrero. 

The  grey-blue  eyes  of  the  far-wandered  man — one 
who  like  Ulysses  of  old  had  withstood  the  buffets  of 
capricious  Fortune  through  many  adventurous  years — 
found  an  expression  of  genuine  friendliness  in  the  dark 
orbs  of  this  redskin  chief,  who  smiled  gravely  at  his 
own  jest,  as  if  in  half-excuse  of  its  familiarity.  Tostado 


A  Lone  Hand  15 

gazed  into  the  white  man's  eyes  a  moment  longer,  and 
then  turned  to  the  circle  of  his  fellow-chiefs. 

"  See,"  he  said,  "  the  white  man's  eyes  are  the  same 
colour  as  our  precious  turquoise  stones  ;  they  are  the 
colour  of  our  sacred  jewel,  the  Shiuamo,  that  I  wear  as 
the  head  man  of  the  Turquoise  family,"  and  he  pointed 
to  his  breast  where  a  large  polished  turquoise  hung 
from  a  circlet  round  his  neck.  "  The  white  man  has 
travelled  far  ;  he  is  weary  ;  he  shall  stay  with  us  and 
rest  a  while  ;  and  we  will  give  him  an  Indian  name, 
and  he  shall  be  as  one  of  ourselves.  Let  him  be  called 
'  Sooshiuamo,'  '  Turquoise-eyes.'.  My  brothers,  say,  is 
it  good  ?  ' ' 

"  Yes,  it  is  good,"  they  answered,  "it  is  good. 
From  henceforth  Sooshiuamo  is  one  of  us  ;  he  is  our 
brother. ' ' 

And  in  this  fashion  the  roving  gold-seeker  had  ob- 
tained amongst  them  the  acceptance  he  desired. 

Felipe,  with  his  striped  blanket  gracefully  draped 
round  him,  came  and  stood  just  behind  his  employer, 
but  said  nothing.  On  a  rough  table  were  a  tin  cup  and 
tin  plate  and  an  iron-handled  knife  ;  a  small  coffee-pot 
was  bubbling  in  the  ashes  on  the  hearth.  Stephens 
held  a  frying-pan  in  his  left  hand,  and  beside  him  on  a 
tent-cloth  on  the  floor  lay  a  large  smooth  boulder  and 
a  hammer,  with  which  he  had  been  pounding  his  tough 
dried  meat  before  cooking  it.  He  now  stood  up  to  his 
full  height,  and  turning  his  face,  flushed  with  the  fire, 
to  Felipe,  pointed  with  the  steel  fork  held  in  his  right 
hand  to  a  great  wooden  chest  against  the  wall  at  one 
side  of  the  room.  ' '  Go  and  take  an  almud  of  corn  and 
give  it  to  the  stock,"  said  he.  "  Give  Morgana  her 
extra  allowance." 

"  Yes,  senor,"  said  Felipe  ;  and  taking  down  three 


1  6  Lone  Pine 

hong  on  a  peg  in  die  wall,  he  filled 
oat  to  the  corral  in  the  outskirts  of  the 
the  American  kept  his  beasts,      The 
Morgana  was  a  beautiful  bay,  of  pore  Morgan 
stock,  and  the  moles  were  sturdy  little  pack  annuals  of 

jACXIGm'fi    JMTPfO.        By    Tftf*    qinj**   they   *Md   ^J.tfffi   tuCBT 

corn,  and  the  boy  had  returned  to  the  house  with  the 

VCT  bflld  ^f^^nfftCTl  f?F5  IDCflu.  41  Wl 


washing  op  the  dishes.  Felipe  hong  up  the  nosebags, 
and  stood  by  the  BBC  suent  ^*^***  rtxniplii  rul  •  ft  never 
occurred  to  him  to  ofier  tohelp  in  what  he  looked  upon 
as  women's  vuck.  Stephens  took  the  wiping'  doth  and 
began  to  wipe  up.  Felipe  at  last  screwed  up  his  cour- 
age to  ask  for  the  mare  he  needed  so  badly. 

"  Oh,  Don  Estevan  !  "  he  began  suddenly. 

"Wefl,  what  is  it?  "said  Stephens  sharply,  rubbing 
away  at  his  tin  plate.  It  always  irritated  him  to  see 
anyone  else  idle  when  he  was  busy.  Felipe  s  heart. 
He  felt  he  should  fail  if  he  asked  now.  Per- 
wonld  be  in  a  better  humour  later  on. 

"  What  shall  I  do  with  the  beasts  ?"  he  said  in  his 
ordinary  voice. 

"Was  that  all  yon  were  going  to  say  ?"  said  Ste- 
phens, looking  at  him  keenly.  "  What  's  the  matter 
with  yon  ?  What  's  up  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  Don  Estevan—  it  *s  nothing."  said  Felipe. 
"  ShaO  I  pot  them  into  the  meadow  as  nsnal  ?'' 

"Yes,  certainly."  replied  Stephens.  "I  sha*  n't 
ride.  I  shall  walk  up  the  acrqnia  to  die  rock  I  am 

£OUH£'  TO  iMmtSC.       if  M.  V82K  UBQD  jutCT.  X    U  OOdC  OCyWU. 

"  Very  wefl,  senor."  said  the  boy  ;  and  taking  the 

LJI  iaijk  ine  wnt  bsy  IT  to  "*^  tin  n*i_  ****K>nf  the  ^'fx'fc^ 
ami  1^4  th^ai  down  die  TIM!  tan  road,  through  th^  nn- 
fcnccd  fields  of  springing  crops,  tow  aids  die  nvei. 


A   Lone  Hand  17 

At  the  lower  end  of  the  plough-lands  a  steep  bank  of 
bare  earth  and  clay  dropped  sharply  to  the  green  flat 
fifteen  or  twenty  feet  below,  through  which  the  river 
ran.  The  plough-lands  lay  on  a  sort  of  natural  ter- 
race, and  were  all  watered  by  numerous  channels  and 
runlets,  which  had  their  sources  in  the  great  acequia 
madre,  or  main  ditch.  This  ditch  was  taken  out  of  the 
river  some  miles  above,  where  it  was  dammed  for  the 
purpose,  and  was  led  along  the  side  of  the  valley  as 
high  up  as  possible  ;  the  pueblo  was  built  beside  the 
ditch  more  than  a  league  below  the  dam,  nearly  half  a 
mile  from  the  river  in  a  direct  line.  The  grassy  flat 
through  which  the  river  flowed  remained  unploughed, 
because  it  was  liable  to  be  overflowed  in  flood  time.  It 
was  a  verdant  meadow,  the  common  pasture-ground  of 
the  milch  cows  of  the  village,  which  were  herded  here 
during  the  day  by  small  boys  and  at  night  were  shut 
up  in  the  corrals  to  keep  them  out  of  the  unfenced 
crops.  Felipe  hobbled  the  three  animals  in  the 
meadow,  and  set  to  work  weeding  in  the  wheat  land 
above,  where  he  could  keep  an  eye  upon  them. 

Some  time  after  Felipe's  departure,  Stephens  went  to 
his  powder-keg  and  measured  out  three  charges  of 
blasting-powder. 

"  Curious,  is  n't  it  ?  "  said  he  aloud  to  himself  as  he 
handled  the  coarse  black  grains  in  which  so  much 
potential  energy  lay  hid, — "  curious  how  these  Indians, 
hard-working  folk  as  ever  I  saw,  have  lived  two  or 
three  hundred  years  here  under  the  Spanish  Govern- 
ment, and  been  allowed  by  those  old  Dons  to  go  on, 
year  after  year,  short  of  water  for  irrigating,  even- 
time." 

He  closed  up  his  powder-keg  again  securely,  and 
locked  it  away  in  the  room  that  he  used  as  a  storeroom  ; 


i8  Lone  Pine 

it  was  the  inner  of  the  two  rooms  that  he  rented  in  the 
block  of  dwellings  inhabited  by  the  Turquoise  family. 
Here  he  lived,  alone  and  independent,  simply  paying 
Felipe  a  trifle  to  do  his  chores  and  go  up  to  the  mesas 
and  get  his  fire-wood.  Indoors  the  prospector  dis- 
tinctly preferred  to  keep  himself  free  and  unbeholden 
to  anybody  ;  he  continued  to  live  exactly  as  he  did  in 
camp,  doing  his  own  cooking  and  mending,  and  doing 
them  thoroughly  well  too,  with  a  pioneer's  pride  in 
being  sufficient  to  himself  in  all  things. 

"  And  now,"  said  he,  as  he  wrapped  up  the  charges 
of  powder,  "  I  '11  just  show  my  good  friends  of  Santiago 
here  a  little  trick  those  old  Spanish  drones  were  too 
thick-headed  or  too  lazy  ever  to  work.  This  fossilised 
Territory  of  New  Mexico  don't  rightly  know  what 's  the 
matter  with  her.  She  's  got  the  best  climate  and  some 
of  the  best  land  in  America,  and  all  she  's  good  for  at 
present  is  to  bask  in  the  sun.  If  she  only  knew  it, 
she  's  waiting  for  a  few  live  American  men  to  come 
along  and  wake  her  up. ' ' 

Stephens  had  been  so  much  alone  in  the  mountains 
that  he  had  got  into  the  solitary  man's  trick  of  talking 
to  himself.  Even  among  the  Indians  he  would  some- 
times comment  aloud  upon  things  in  English,  which 
they  did  not  understand  ;  for  in  spite  of  their  com- 
panionship he  lived  in  a  world  of  his  own. 

He  took  down  a  coil  of  fuse  from  a  shelf,  cut  off  a 
piece,  rolled  it  up,  and  stowed  it  away  along  with  the 
charges  of  blasting-powder  in  his  pockets,  first  feeling 
carefully  for  stray  matches  inside.  "  Yes,"  he  con- 
tinued, as  his  fingers  pried  into  every  angle  of  each 
pocket  preparatory  to  filling  it  with  explosive  matter, 
"  drones  is  the  only  name  for  Spaniards  when  it  conies 
to  talking  real  work.  They  don't  work,  and  they 


A   Lone   Hand  19 

never  did.  They  '  ve  made  this  Territory  into  a  Sleepy 
Hollow.  What  she  wants  is  a  few  genuine  Western 
men,  full  of  vim,  vinegar,  and  vitriol,  just  to  make 
things  hum  for  a  change.  New  Mexico  has  got  the 
biggest  kind  of  a  future  before  her  when  the  right  sort 
of  men  come  along  and  turn  to  at  developing  her." 

He  stood  in  the  middle  of  his  outer  room,  patting 
himself  gently  in  various  parts  to  make  sure  that  he 
had  got  all  his  needful  belongings  stowed  away. 
"  Now  then,  Faro,"  and  he  addressed  the  dog,  who 
was  still  curled  upon  the  bed  eyeing  his  master  doubt- 
fully, uncertain  whether  he  was  .to  be  left  at  home  on 
guard  or  taken  out  for  a  spree;  "  what  this  here  be- 
nighted country  needs  is  the  right  kind  of  men  and 
the  right  kind  of  dogs.  Aint  that  the  sort  of  way 
you  'd  put  it  if  you  were  a  human  ?  Come  along  then, 
and  you  and  me  '11  take  a  little  trot  up  along  the  ditch 
and  astonish  their  weak  minds  for  'em." 

With  yelps  of  joy,  uttered  in  a  bulldog's  strangled 
whistle,  Faro  bounded  off  the  bed  on  to  the  earthen 
floor,  and  danced  rapturously  round  his  master,  who 
was  still  thoughtfully  feeling  his  pockets  from  the 
outside  to  make  certain  that  when  he  reached  his 
destination  he  would  not  find  that  some  quite  indis- 
pensable requisite  had  been  left  behind.  Then  he 
bounced  out  of  the  open  door  into  the  street,  scattered 
a  pig  and  three  scraggy  chickens  that  were  vainly 
hunting  around  after  stray  grains  of  corn  where  the 
horses  had  been  fed,  and  then  halted  to  await  his 
master  out  by  the  corrals.  Stephens,  having  at  last 
assured  himself  that  he  had  really  forgotten  nothing, 
came  out  after  the  dog,  pulling  to  the  door  behind 
him,  and  the  pair  started  off  to  walk  up  alongside  the 
acequia.  There  was  no  water  in  it  to-day,  as  it  had 


2O  Lone  Pine 

been  cut  off  up  above  to  facilitate  the  work  of  blasting. 
Here  and  there  in  the  fields  Indians  were  at  work  : 
some  wielded  their  great  heavy  hoes,  with  which  they 
hacked  away  at  the  ground  with  astonishing  vigour  ; 
others  were  ploughing  with  pairs  of  oxen,  which  walked 
stiffly  side  by  side,  their  heads  lashed  firmly  by  the 
thick  horns  to  the  yoke,  as  they  dragged  the  curious 
old-fashioned  wooden  ploughs,  just  like  those  described 
by  Virgil  in  the  Georgics  two  thousand  years  ago.  In 
the  peach  orchards  near  the  village  women  were  at 
work,  and  little  naked  brown  children  stopped  their 
play  to  stare  at  the  white  man  as  he  passed,  with  the 
simplicity  of  Arcadia.  After  half  an  hour's  walk  he 
reached  his  destination,  a  rocky  promontory  that  jutted 
out  from  the  hills  into  the  valley.  The  acequia  ran 
round  its  base,  and  the  Indians,  in  order  to  bring  as 
much  of  the  valley  as  possible  under  irrigation,  had 
carried  the  line  of  the  ditch  as  high  as  they  could. 
They  had  carried  it  so  high  that  where  it  rounded  the 
rocks  a  point  projected  into  it,  and  made  it  too  narrow 
and  too  shallow  to  carry  the  amount  of  water  that  it 
was  easily  capable  of  containing  both  above  and  below. 
They  had  no  saws  to  cut  boards  to  make  a  flume  for 
the  ditch  ;  and,  besides,  such  a  piece  of  engineering 
was  quite  beyond  the  range  of  their  simple  arts.  This 
weak  place  had  been  a  hindrance  and  a  trial  to  them 
from  time  immemorial.  If  they  attempted  to  run  their 
ditch  more  than  half  full  of  water  it  brimmed  over  at 
this  point,  and  then  broke  down  the  bank.  It  had  to 
be  patched  every  year, — sometimes  several  times  in  one 
year, — and  this  entailed  much  extra  work  on  the  mem- 
bers of  the  village  community,  who  were  all  bound  by 
their  laws  to  work  on  the  ditch  when  necessary,  without 
pay.  In  fact,  the  repair  of  the  ditch  at  the  point  of 


A  Lone   Hand  21 

rocks  was  one  of  the  stock  grievances  of  the  pueblo, 
everyone  thinking  that  he  was  set  to  do  more  than  his 
share  of  the  work.  Besides,  it  naturally  broke  down 
when  fullest,  that  is  to  say,  when  they  needed  it  most 
for  irrigation,  and  everyone  wanted  water  for  his  maize 
or  his  wheat  crop.  No  wonder,  then,  they  were  first 
incredulous  and  then  overjoyed  when  by  a  fortunate 
chance  Stephens  happened  to  hear  of  their  difficulty 
and  went  to  examine  the  spot,  saw  at  once  that  it  was 
a  simple  matter,  and  offered  to  lend  them  tools,  to  show 
them  how  to  drill  the  necessary  holes,  and  then  to  blast 
away  the  obnoxious  rocks  for  them.  These  Indians 
were  familiar  with  firearms  and  knew  the  force  of  gun- 
powder, but  were  ignorant  of  its  use  for  blasting  pur- 
poses ;  nor  were  their  Mexican  neighbours  in  this  part 
of  the  country  much  more  enlightened.  Accordingly 
they  had  accepted  with  joy  Stephens' s  proffered  assist- 
ance, having  learned  by  experience  to  set  a  high  value 
on  the  skill  and  resource  of  their  American  friend. 


CHAPTER  III 
BLASTING  THE  ACEQUIA 

A  LITTLE  crowd  of  these  peaceful  and  industrious 
red  men,  in  character  so  unlike  their  wild  cousins 
of  the  prairie  and  the  sierra,  were  grouped  around  the 
point  of  rocks.  As  Stephens  approached  them  he  heard 
the  click,  click,  of  steel  on  stone  ;  and  as  he  came 
near  the  crowd  made  way  for  him,  and  the  cacique 
saluted  him  :  "  Good  morning,  Sooshiuamo;  you  have 
come  at  the  right  time.  See  how  well  the  young  men 
have  worked  at  making  the  holes  in  the  rock  as  you 
showed  them  yesterday.  They  have  made  them  quite 
deep  now.  Come  and  tell  us  if  they  are  right." 

Stephens  looked  into  the  ditch,  where  a  powerfully 
built  Indian  was  laboriously  jumping  a  heavy  bar  of 
steel  up  and  down  in  a  hole  bored  in  the  hard,  solid 
rock,  giving  it  a  half-turn  with  his  wrists  at  each  jump. 
The  Colorado  miner  got  down  into  the  ditch  and  took 
the  drill  he  had  lent  them  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
Indian,  and  tried  the  hole  with  it.  His  deft  and  easy 
way  of  handling  the  heavy  jumping-bar  showed  prac- 
tised skill  as  well  as  strength.  "  That  '11  do  right 
enough,"  he  said,  looking  up  at  the  cacique  who  stood 
on  the  bank  above  him.  "  You  have  got  your  chaps 
to  do  the  business  well.  Are  the  other  two  holes  as 
deep  as  this  ?  " 

22 


Blasting  the  Acequia  23 

"  Yes,  deeper,"  answered  the  Indian.  "  See,  here 
they  are  ;  try  them  ;  the  young  men  have  been  at  them 
since  noon  yesterday." 

Stephens  moved  along  to  the  points  indicated  and 
examined  in  a  critical  manner  the  work  that  had  been 
effected.  ' '  Yes,  that  looks  as  if  it  would  do  all  right, ' ' 
he  said  in  approving  tones.  "  Now  then,  you  fellows, 
give  me  room,  and  keep  still  a  few  minutes,  and  I  '11 
show  you  some  fireworks. ' ' 

He  produced  from  his  pockets  the  powder  and  fuse, 
and  proceeded  to  make  his,  to  them,  mysterious  pre- 
parations, the  eager  and  inquisitive  circle  of  red  men 
pressing  as  near  as  possible,  and  almost  climbing  over 
each  other's  shoulders  in  order  to  get  a  good  view. 
Their  excited  comments  amused  Stephens  greatly,  and 
in  return  he  kept  up  a  running  fire  of  jests  upon  them. 

But  it  is  not  always  easy  to  jest  appropriately  with 
men  who  stand  on  a  different  step  of  the  intellectual 
ladder  from  yourself;  and  without  his  dreaming  of  such 
a  thing,  one  of  his  laughing  repartees  suggested  to  his 
Indian  auditors  a  train  of  thought  that  their  minds 
took  very  seriously. 

Stephens' s  action  in  ramming  down  a  charge  of 
powder,  and  then  tamping  it,  had  not  unnaturally  re- 
minded them  of  an  operation  which  was  the  only  one 
connected  with  gunpowder  that  they  had  experience 
of.  "  Why,  he  's  loading  it  just  like  a  gun,"  cried  a 
voice  from  the  crowd  ;  "  but  what  's  he  going  to 
shoot?" 

' '  Shoot  ?  ' '  retorted  Stephens,  without  looking  up, 
as  he  adjusted  the  fuse  with  his  fingers  ;  "  why,  I  'm 
going  to  shoot  the  sky,  of  course.  Don't  you  see  how 
this  hole  points  right  straight  up  to  heaven  ?  You  sit 
on  the  mouth  of  it  when  I  touch  her  off,  and  it  '11  boost 


24  Lone  Pine 

you  aloft  away  up  over  the  old  sun  there ' '  ;  and  raising 
his  face  he  pointed  to  the  brightly  glowing  orb  which 
was  already  high  overhead. 

At  his  words  a  sort  of  shiver  ran  around  the  ring  of 
red  men.  Religion  is  the  strongest  and  the  deepest 
sentiment  of  the  Indian  mind,  and  the  rash  phrase 
sounded  as  if  some  violation  of  the  sanctity  of  what 
they  worshipped  was  intended.  What  !  Shoot  against 
the  sacred  sky  !  Shoot  with  sacrilegious  gunpowder 
against  the  home  of  The  Shiuana,  of  ' '  Those  Above  ' '  ? 
The  deed  might  be  taken  as  a  defiance  of  those 
Dread  Powers,  and  bring  down  their  wrath  upon 
them  all. 

Then  came  a  crisis. 

"  Bad  medicine  !  witchcraft  !  "  exclaimed  a  voice 
with  the  unmistakable  ring  of  angry  terror  in  it.  To 
the  Indian,  witchcraft  is  the  one  unpardonable  sin,  only 
to  be  atoned  for  by  a  death  of  lingering  torture. 

A  murmur  of  swift-rising  wrath  followed  the  accusing 
voice.  The  American  was  warned  in  a  moment  that 
he  had  made  a  dangerous  slip,  and  he  at  once  tried  to 
get  out  of  it  with  as  little  fuss  as  might  be. 

"  You  dry  up!  "  he  retorted  indignantly.  "  Witch- 
craft be  blowed  !  You  ought  to  know  better  than  to 
talk  like  that,  you  folks.  I  'm  telling  you  truth  now. 
That  was  only  a  little  joke  of  mine,  about  shooting  the 
sky.  There  's  no  bad  medicine  in  that.  We  Ameri- 
cans don't  know  anything  about  such  fool  tricks  as 
witchcraft.  Here  's  all  there  is  to  it.  I  'm  simply 
going  to  blast  this  rock  for  you.  It 's  just  an  ordinary 
thing  that  's  done  thousands  of  times  every  day  in  the 
mines  all  over  the  United  States." 

' '  Ah,  but  there  are  great  wizards  among  the  Ameri- 
cans, and  their  medicine  is  very  bad, ' '  cried  the  same 


Blasting  the  Acequia  25 

voice  of  angry  terror  that  had  spoken  before.  ' '  Are 
you  working  their  works  ?  are  you  one  of  them  ?  ' ' 

Stephens  glanced  quickly  round  the  ring  of  dark 
eyes  now  fixed  on  him  with  alien  looks.  He  saw  there 
a  universal  scowl  that  sent  a  chill  through  him. 

"  There  's  a  lot  of  explosive  stuff  round  here  besides 
my  blasting-powder,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  and  it  looks 
as  if  I  'd  come  mighty  nigh  touching  it  off,  without 
meaning  it,  with  that  feeble  little  joke.  What  a  flare- 
up  about  nothing  !  " 

There  flashed  across  his  mind  on  the  instant  a  story 
of  three  stranger  Indians,  who  by  some  unlucky  chance 
had  violated  the  mysteries  of  the  Santiago  folk  and  had 
never  been  heard  of  more. 

For  himself  he  had  every  reason,  so  far,  to  be  satis- 
fied with  his  treatment,  but  now,  at  last,  he  had  hap- 
pened to  touch  on  a  sensitive  spot  with  the  Indians, 
and  behold,  this  was  the  result.  He  saw  that  he  must 
take  a  firm  stand,  and  take  it  at  once.  He  straightened 
himself  up  from  his  stooping  position,  dusting  off  the 
earth  that  adhered  to  his  hands. 

' '  Now,  look  here,  you  chaps, ' '  he  said  peremptorily, 
as  he  stood  erect  in  the  middle  of  the  ditch,  "  you  want 
to  quit  that  rot  about  witches  right  here  and  now. 
There  's  only  one  question  I  'm  going  to  ask  you,  and 
that  's  this — do  you  want  your  ditch  fixed  up,  or  don't 
you  ?  You  say  it  has  been  a  trouble  to  you  for  hun- 
dreds of  years,  and  here  I  stand  ready  to  fix  it  for  you 
right  now  in  just  one  minute.  There  's  only  one  more 
thing  to  be  done,  and  that  's  to  strike  the  match. 
Come,  Cacique,  you  're  the  boss  around  here.  Say 
which  it  is  to  be.  Is  it  '  yes '  or  '  no  '  ?  " 

Salvador,  the  cacique  of  Santiago,  was  no  fool. 
Personally  he  was  as  firm  a  believer  in  witchcraft  as 


26  Lone  Pine. 

any  of  his  people,  nor  would  he  have  hesitated  for  a  mo- 
ment to  utilise  such  a  charge  as  had  just  been  made  to 
rid  himself  of  an  enemy.  But  he  was  also  well  aware 
that  there  were  times  when  it  was  far  more  expedient 
to  suppress  it,  and  that  this  was  one  of  them. 

"Nonsense,  Miguel!"  he  exclaimed,  turning  ab- 
ruptly on  the  Indian  who  had  first  raised  the  dreaded 
cry  ;  "  this  Americano  is  a  good  man,  and  no  wizard, 
and  your  business  is  to  hold  your  tongue  till  you  are 
asked  to  speak.  It  is  the  proper  office  of  your  betters 
to  see  to  these  matters,  and  you  have  no  right  nor  call 
to  interfere. ' ' 

The  lonely  American  heard  him  speak  thus  with  an 
intense  sense  of  relief.  The  power  of  the  chief  was 
great,  and  his  words  were  strong  to  exorcise  the  malig- 
nant spirit  of  fanaticism. 

"  Good  for  you,  Salvador  !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  the 
cacique's  reproof  ceased,  and  left  a  visible  effect  on 
the  attitude  of  the  crowd,  "  that 's  the  talk  !  I  'm  glad 
to  see  you  've  got  some  sense.  Your  answer  is  '  yes/ 
I  take  it." 

"Assuredly  I  mean  '  yes,'  Sooshiuamo,"  answered 
the  cacique ;  "  we  want  you  to  go  on  and  finish  your 
work.  I  say  so,  and  what  I  say  I  mean.  But  if  all  is 
ready,  as  you  declare,  before  you  strike  the  match  we 
will  offer  a  prayer  to  Those  Above  that  all  may  be 
well." 

"  Why  certainly, Cacique,"  assented  Stephens,"  I  've 
got  no  sort  of  objection  to  make.  You  fire  ahead." 
He  breathed  more  freely  now,  but  he  was  conscious  of 
a  vastly  quickened  interest  in  the  religious  methods  of 
the  Indians  as  he  watched  the  cacique  withdraw  a  little 
space  from  the  edge  of  the  ditch  and  turn,  facing  the 
east,  the  other  Indians  following  his  example,  and 


Blasting  the  Acequia  27 

standing  in  irregular  open  formation  behind  him,  all 
facing  towards  the  east  likewise. 

"  Did  n't  reckon  I  was  going  to  drop  in  for  a  prayer- 
meeting,  ' '  said  the  American,  with  a  humour  which  he 
kept  to  himself,  "  or  I  might  have  brought  my  Sunday- 
go-to-meeting  togs  if  I  'd  only  known.  But,  by  George ! 
when  I  was  mining  over  on  the  Pacific  slope,  the  days 
when  things  was  booming  over  there,  if  we  'd  had  to 
stop  and  have  prayers  on  the  Comstock  lode  every  time 
we  were  going  to  let  off  a  blast,  I  should  rather  say  that 
the  output  of  bullion  in  Nevada  would  have  fallen  off 
some. ' ' 

He  listened  intently  to  the  flow  of  words  that  the 
cacique,  acting  as  the  spokesman  of  his  people,  was 
pouring  forth,  but  they  were  utterly  unintelligible  to 
him,  for  the  prayer  was  couched  in  the  language  of  the 
tribe,  and  not  in  civilised  Spanish.  All  he  could  dis- 
tinguish were  the  "  Ho-a's  "  that  came  in  at  intervals 
from  the  crowd  like  responses. 

"  I  wonder  what  he  's  saying,  and  who  or  what  he  's 
saying  it  to  ?  "  he  meditated  questioningly.  ' '  What 
was  it  that  Nepomuceno  Sanchez  was  telling  me  only 
last  week, — that  they  did  n't  have  service  in  that  old 
Roman  Catholic  church  of  theirs  more  than  once  in  a 
blue  moon,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  time  they  go  in  for 
some  heathen  games  of  their  own  in  their  secret  estufas 
in  the  pueblo  ;  he  swore  that  one  time  he  dropped  on 
to  a  party  of  them  at  some  very  queer  games  indeed, 
on  the  site  of  an  old  ruined  pueblo  of  theirs  'way  off  up 
on  the  Potrero  de  las  Vacas — swore  they  had  a  pair 
of  big  stone  panthers  up  there,  carved  out  of  the  living 
rock,  that  they  go  and  offer  sacrifices  to.  I  did  n't 
more  than  half  believe  him  then,  but  this  makes  me 
think  there  's  something  in  it.  What  the  blazes  are 


28  Lone  Pine 

they  at  now  ?  "  A  chorus  of  "  Ho-a's,"  uttered  with 
a  deep,  heartfelt  intonation,  like  the  long  a-a-mens  at 
a  revival  meeting,  rose  from  the  crowd.  There  rose 
also  from  them  little  tufts  of  feather-down  that  floated 
upwards  to  the  sky,  soaring  as  it  were  on  the  breath 
of  the  worshippers,  outward  and  visible  symbols  of  the 
petitions  that  ascended  from  the  congregation.  The 
cacique  took  a  step  in  advance,  holding  in  his  hands 
two  long  feathers  crossed  ;  he  stooped  down  and  began 
to  bury  them  in  the  loose,  light  soil.  Stephens,  his 
curiosity  now  intensely  aroused,  was  moving  forward 
a  little  in  order  to  see  more  closely  what  was  taking 
place,  but  an  Indian  instantly  motioned  him  back  in 
silence,  finger  on  lip,  with  a  countenance  of  shocked 
gravity,  making  the  irreverent  inquirer  feel  like  an 
impudent  small  boy  caught  in  the  act  of  disturbing  a 
church  service. 

"  Perhaps  at  this  stage  of  the  performances  they  'd 
like  to  have  me  take  off  my  hat,"  he  soliloquised. 
"Well,  mebbe  I  will."  He  looked  round  at  the 
motionless  figures  reverently  standing  with  bowed 
heads.  "  Do  at  Rome  as  Rome  does,  so  some  folks 
say.  These  Indians  themselves  don't  have  any  hats 
to  take  off,  but  they  look  so  blamed  serious  over  it  that 
I  'm  dead  sure  they  would  if  they  wore  'em.  Dashed 
if  I  don't  do  it ;  here  goes  !  "  and  he  swept  his  broad 
sombrero  from  his  head,  subduing  his  face  to  a  decor- 
ously grave  expression. 

But  the  repressed  humour  of  the  American  reasserted 
itself  beneath  this  enforced  solemnity  of  his  exterior. 
"  Makes  me  think  of  the  story  of  the  man  the  Indians 
in  California  once  took  prisoner,  only  instead  of  put- 
ting him  to  the  torture  they  painted  him  pea-green  and 
worshipped  him  as  a  deity.  It  's  not  so  bad  as  that 


Blasting  the  Acequia  29 

yet,"  he  went  on  to  himself,  "  but  I  don't  much  like 
taking  any  sort  of  part  in  this  show,  nohow."  He 
looked  at  the  hat  which  he  was  devoutly  holding  in  his 
hand  as  he  stood  amongst  the  congregation,  and  his 
face  assumed  a  quizzical  expression.  "  I  wonder  now 
if  by  doing  this  I  aint,  by  chance,  worshipping  some 
blamed  idol  or  other.  I  used  to  be  a  joined  member 
oncet,  back  there  in  Ohio,  of  the  United  Presbyterian 
Church.  I  wonder  what  poor  old  Elder  Edkins  would 
say  now  if  he  caught  sight  of  me  in  this  shivaree.  How- 
ever, I  guess  I  can  stand  it,  if  it  don't  go  too  far.  So 
long  as  they  stick  to  this  tomfoolery  and  only  worship 
those  turkey  feathers,  or  whatever  they  are,  that  the 
cacique  's  been  burying,  I'  11  lay  low.  But  if  they 
want  to  play  me  for  an  idol,  and  start  in  to  painting 
me  pea-green,  there  '11  be  a  rumpus.  What  a  time 
their  prayer-meeting  does  take,  anyhow  !  Ah,  thank 
goodness,  here  's  the  doxology." 

The  cacique  had  finished  his  incantation  over  the 
crossed  feathers,  and  interred  them  properly.  He  now 
rose  and  dismissed  the  assembly,  which  instantly  broke 
up,  the  serious  expression  rapidly  dissolving  from  all 
faces,  as  it  does  from  those  of  a  congregation  pouring 
out  of  church. 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  Stephens' s  tongue  to  begin, 
"  Why,  Cacique,  you  've  forgot  to  take  up  the  collec- 
tion. Where  's  your  plate  ?  "  as  he  saw  Salvador  ap- 
proaching him,  but  a  sobering  recollection  of  the 
awkward  way  in  which  his  last  joke  had  missed 
fire  checked  the  temptation  to  be  flippant  as  too 
dangerous. 

"  My  game,"  thought  he,  "is  to  cut  the  gab  and 
come  to  the  'osses,  as  the  English  circus-manager  said  ; 
or  else  they  might  call  on  Brother  Miguel  to  give  an 


30  Lone  Pine 

exhortation,  and  who  knows  which  end  of  the  horn  I 
should  be  liable  to  come  out  at  then  ?  ' ' 

"Well,  Cacique,"  he  said  aloud,  "through?  so 
soon  ?  You  don't  say  !  Are  you  really  ready  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  Indian,  "  now  you  begin.  Do 
your  work." 

"  All  right  then,"  rejoined  the  American  ;  "  if  that's 
so,  by  the  permission  of  the  chairman  I  '11  take  the 
floor."  He  sprang  down  into  the  ditch,  drew  out  a 
match,  and  turned  round  to  the  cacique.  ' '  Now,  Sal- 
vador, ' '  he  called  out,  ' '  make  your  people  stand  clear. 
L,et  them  go  right  away." 

They  did  not  need  telling  twice,  and  there  was  a 
general  stampede,  the  bolder  hiding  close  by,  the  most 
part  running  off  to  the  distance  of  a  rifle-shot.  The 
cacique  gathered  up  the  buckskin  riata  of  his  plump 
mustang,  which  stood  there  champing  the  Spanish 
ring-bit  till  his  jaws  dropped  flakes  of  foam,  and  retired 
to  a  safe  distance.  Stephens  stood  alone  in  the  ditch 
and  struck  the  match.  It  went  out  ;  he  took  off  his 
broad  felt  hat,  struck  another  match,  and  held  it  inside. 
This  time  the  flame  caught,  and  he  applied  it  to  the 
ends  of  the  fuses,  and  retreated  in  a  leisurely  manner 
round  the  back  of  a  big  rock  near  by.  He  found  two 
or  three  of  the  boldest  Indians  behind  it,  and  pushing 
them  back  stood  leaning  against  the  rock.  They 
squeezed  up  against  him,  their  bright  black  eyes 
gleaming  and  their  red  fingers  trembling  with  excite- 
ment. They  had  never  seen  a  blast  let  off  before. 

Boom  !  boom  !  went  the  first  two  charges,  and  the 
echoes  of  the  reports  resounded  through  the  foothills 
that  bordered  the  valley.  Several  Indians  started  for- 
ward from  their  hiding-places. 

"  Keep  back  there,  will  you  !  "  shouted  Stephens. 


Blasting  the  Acequia  31 

"  Keep  'em  back,  Salvador.  Tito,"  he  said  familiarly 
to  the  Indian  who  was  next  him  beside  the  rock,  ' '  if 
you  go  squeezing  me  like  that  I  '11  pull  your  pigtail." 
Tito's  long  black  hair  was  done  up  and  rolled  with 
yellow  braid  into  a  neat  pigtail  at  the  nape  of  his  neck. 
The  Pueblo  Indian  men  all  wear  their  hair  this  way, 
and  are  as  proud  of  their  queues  as  so  many  Chinamen. 

Tito  laughed  and  showed  his  gleaming  teeth,  as  he 
nudged  the  boy  next  to  him  at  the  American's  joke. 
Boom  !  went  the  third  charge.  The  practical  miner 
looked  up  warily  to  see  that  no  fragments  were  flying 
overhead,  and  then  stepping  from -under  cover  waved 
his  arm.  At  the  signal  the  Indians  poured  from  their 
hiding-places  and  rushed  eagerly  down  to  the  scene  of 
action. 

The  blast  was  a  great  success.  Some  tons  of  stone 
had  been  shattered  and  dislodged  just  where  it  was 
necessary,  and  it  was  plain  to  see  that  the  ditch  might 
now  be  made  twice  as  big  as  before.  Without  any  de- 
lay the  Indians  swarmed  in  like  ants,  and  began  pick- 
ing up  the  broken  stone  with  their  hands,  and  carrying 
it  out  to  build  up  and  strengthen  the  lower  side  of  the 
embankment. 

While  the  workers  were  thus  busily  engaged,  the 
cacique  came  forward,  holding  his  horse  by  the  riata  of 
plaited  buckskin.  He  made  a  deep,  formal  reverence 
before  the  man  who  had  wrought  what  for  them  was  no- 
thing less  than  a  miracle, — the  man  by  whose  superior 
art  the  solid  rock  had  been  dissipated  into  a  shower  of 
fragments,  and  who  now  stood  quietly  looking  on  at 
the  scene  of  his  triumph. 

"  It  is  truly  most  wonderful,  this  thing  that  you  have 
done,"  began  the  chief,  "  and  we  will  be  your  devoted 
servants  for  ever  after  this ' ' ;  and  he  bowed  himself 


32  Lone  Pine 

again  more  deeply  than  before,  as  deeply  as  when 
he  had  buried  the  sacred  feathers  a  few  minutes 
earlier. 

The  native  humour  of  the  American  asserted  itself 
at  once.  "  Here  's  the  pea-green  deity  .business  on," 
he  murmured  to  himself.  "  So  far,  so  good  ;  I  don't 
mind  the  deity  part,  but  I  draw  the  line  if  he  trots  out 
his  paint-pot  ;  then  I  '11  begin  to  kick." 

"  Since  the  days  of  Montezuma, "  continued  the  ca- 
cique, with  an  eloquent  wave  of  his  hand,  "  no  bene- 
factor like  you  has  ever  come  to  the  red  men  ;  no 
blessing  has  been  wrought  for  them  such  as  you  have 
done.  Would  that  our  departed  ancestors  had  been 
allowed  to  see  with  their  own  eyes  the  great,  the  glori- 
ous manifestation  of  power  that  has  been  shown  to  us, 
their  children  — ' '  and  his  mellifluous  oratory  rolled 
on  in  an  unceasing  stream  of  praise. 

1 '  By  George ! ' '  said  Stephens  to  himself,  ' '  I  wonder 
if  right  now  is  n't  my  best  time  to  bounce  him  about 
the  silver  mine.  I  did  calculate  to  bring  it  up  before 
the  council  of  chiefs  when  I  saw  a  favourable  oppor- 
tunity, but  though  the  rest  of  'em  are  n't  here  at  this 
moment  the  cacique  's  talking  so  almighty  grateful 
that  perhaps  I  'd  better  strike  while  the  iron  's  hot." 
He  listened  a  moment  to  the  profuse  expressions  of 
gratitude  that  poured  from  the  red  man's  lips.  "  If  he 
only  means  a  quarter  of  what  he  's  saying,  I  ought  to 
have  no  difficulty  in  getting  him  to  back  me  up.  But 
perhaps  I  'd  best  tackle  him  alone  first,  and  make  sure 
of  his  support."  He  waited  until  the  cacique  had 
finished  his  peroration. 

"  Glad  you  're  pleased,  I  'm  sure,"  said  Stephens  in 
reply,  "  and  here  's  my  hand  on  it,"  and  he  shook  the 
cacique's  hand  warmly  in  his.  ' '  Just  let 's  step  this  way 


Blasting  the  Acequia  33 

a  little, ' '  he  went  on  quietly.  "  I '  ve  got  a  word  or  two 
to  say  to  you  between  ourselves,'  and  the  pair  moved 
away  side  by  side  to  a  distance  of  a  few  yards  from  the 
site  of  the  blasted  rock. 

"  You  see,  working  together  like  this,  how  easily 
we  've  been  able  to  manage  it,"  began  the  American 
diplomatically.  "  I  'm  an  expert  at  mining,  and  your 
young  men  have  carried  out  the  execution  of  this 
j(5b  admirably.  Now,  look  at  here,  Cacique  ;  what  I 
wanted  to  say  to  you  was  this.  Why  should  n't  we  go 
in  together,  sort  of  partners  like,  and  work  your  silver 
mine  together  in  the  same  sort  of  way  ?  I  could  make 
big  money  for  both  of  us  ;  there  'd  be  plenty  for  me 
and  plenty  for  you  and  for  all  your  people,  if  it  's  only 
half  as  good  as  I  've  heard  tell  "  ;  he  paused,  looking 
sideways  at  the  Indian  as  he  spoke  to  note  what  effect 
his  suggestion  produced  on  him.  At  the  words  ' '  silver 
mine"  the  chief's  face,  which  had  been  smiling  and 
gracious  in  sympathy  with  the  feelings  he  had  been 
expressing  in  his  speech,  suddenly  clouded  over  and 
hardened  into  a  rigid  impassibility. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  our  silver  mine, 
Don  Kstevan, ' '  he  answered  frigidly.  ' '  There  is  no 
such  thing  in  existence. ' ' 

"  Tut,  tut,"  said  Stephens,  good-humouredly,  "  don't 
you  go  to  make  any  mystery  of  the  thing  with  me,  Ca- 
cique. I  'nl  your  good  friend,  as  you  acknowledged 
yourself  only  a  minute  ago.  I  mean  that  old  silver 
mine  you  've  got  up  there  on  Rattlesnake  Mountain, 
Cerro  de  las  Viboras  as  you  call  it.  You  keep  it  care- 
fully covered  up,  with  logs  and  earth  piled  up  over  the 
mouth  of  it.  Quite  right  of  you,  too.  No  use  to  go 
and  let  everybody  see  what  you  've  got.  I  quite  agree 
to  that.  But  you  need  n't  make  any  bones  about  it 


34  Lone  Pine 

with  me  who  am  your  friend,  and  well  posted  about 
the  whole  thing  to  boot. ' ' 

In  reality  Stephens  was  retailing  to  the  Indian  the 
story  of  the  mine  as  far  as  he  had  been  able  to  trace  it 
among  the  Mexicans.  This  was  the  first  time  that  he 
had  even  hinted  to  any  of  the  Santiago  people  that  he 
knew  anything  at  all  about  it,  or  had  any  curiosity 
on  the  subject.  Salvador  maintained  his  attitude  of 
impassibility. 

"  I  don't  know  who  has  told  you  all  this,"  he  an- 
swered, "  but  it  is  all  nonsense.  Put  it  out  of  your 
mind  ;  there  's  nothing  in  it." 

But  in  spite  of  these  denials  Stephens  believed  his 
shot  about  the  mine  had  gone  home,  and  he  knew  also 
that  the  cacique  was  reputed  to  be  fond  of  gain. 

"  Oh,  I  understand  you  well  enough,  Salvador,"  he 
rejoined  with  easy  familiarity.  "  Of  course  you  're 
bound  to  deny  it.  It  's  the  old  policy  of  your  tribe. 
That  's  all  right.  But  now,  as  between  you  and  me, 
it  's  time  there  was  a  new  departure,  and  you  and  I 
are  the  men  to  make  it.  I  tell  you  I  know  just  what 
I  'm  talking  about,  and  there  's  money  in  it  for  both  of 
us."  He  thought  he  saw  the  dark  eyes  of  the  Indian 
glisten,  but  his  lips  showed  small  sign  of  yielding. 

"  It  's  no  use,  Don  Estevan,"  the  latter  said  firmly. 
"  I  cannot  tell  you  a  word  now,  and  I  don't  suppose  I 
ever  shall  be  able  to.  Keep  silence.  Let  no  one  know 
you  have  spoken  to  me  about  such  things." 

At  this  moment  loud  cries  broke  out  from  where  the 
workers  were  busy,  and  Stephens,  wondering  what 
was  up,  listened  intently  to  the  sounds.  He  thought 
he  could  distinguish  one  word,  "  Kaeahvala,"  repeated 
again  and  again.  The  cacique  turned  round  abruptly. 
A  huge  rattlesnake,  which  had  been  disturbed  by  the 


Blasting  the  Acequia  35 

shock  of  the  blast,  had  emerged  from  a  crevice  in  the 
rocks,  and  showed  itself  plainly  to  view  wriggling  away 
over  the  open  ground. 

' '  After  him,  after  him,  Snakes  !  ' '  called  out  the  ca- 
cique in  a  loud  voice.  ' '  He  is  angry  because  his  house 
has  been  shaken.  To  the  estufa  without  delay !  You 
must  pacify  him." 

On  the  instant  there  darted  forth  in  pursuit  half  a 
dozen  young  men  of  the  Snake  family,  and  at  the  same 
moment  Faro,  with  an  eager  yelp,  announced  his 
ardent  intention  of  pacifying  the  snake  in  his  own 
fashion,  and  away  went  the  dog,  who  had  been  com- 
pelled to  endure,  much  against  his  will,  the  tedium  of 
the  Indian  prayer-meeting  and  the  oratory  of  the  ca- 
cique, and  now  proceeded  to  grow  frantic  with  excite- 
ment at  the  chance  of  joining  independently  in  the 
chase. 

"  Come  back  there,  Faro,"  cried  Stephens,  in  an 
agony  of  alarm  for  his  favourite  ;  "  come  back  there, 
will  you  !  "  But  Faro  was  headstrong  and  pretended 
not  to  hear. 

The  cacique  too  was  filled  with  alarm,  but  the  object 
of  his  solicitude  was  not  the  dog  but  the  reptile. 
"  Quick,  quick  !  "  he  cried  to  the  young  men  ;  "  be 
quick  and  save  him  from  that  hound." 

And  then  Stephens  saw  a  sight  that  astonished  him 
out  of  measure.  The  Indian  youths  had  the  advantage 
of  Faro  in  starting  nearer  the  snake;  they  ran  like  the 
wind,  and  the  foremost  of  them,  overtaking  the  reptile 
before  Faro  could  get  up,  pounced  upon  him  and  swung 
him  aloft  in  the  air,  grasping  him  firmly  just  behind 
the  head  and  allowing  the  writhing  coils  to  twine 
around  his  muscular  arm.  One  of  his  companions 
produced  a  bunch  of  feathers  and  stroked  the  venomous 


36  Lone  Pine 

head  from  which  the  forked  tongue  was  darting,  while 
the  baffled  Faro  danced  around,  leaping  high  in  his 
efforts  to  get  at  his  prey.  Stephens  ran  up  and  secured 
his  dog,  and  looked  on  at  this  extraordinary  piece  of 
snake-charming  with  an  amazement  that  increased 
every  moment. 

"But  why  don't  you  kill  the  brute?"   he  cried. 

'  Don't  play  with  him  like  that  ;    kill  him  quick. 

Tell  'em  to  kill  him,  Cacique.     I  never  passed  a  rattler 

in  my  life  without  killing  it  if  I  could;  it  's  a  point  of 

conscience  with  me." 

The  Indian  looked  at  him  with  grave  disapproval, 
as  a  parent  might  look  at  a  child  who  had  in  its  ignor- 
ance been  guilty  of  a  serious  fault. 

"  You  do  not  understand,  Sooshiuamo,"  he  said  in 
a  tone  in  which  reproof  was  mingled  with  pity  ;  "  the 
snake  is  their  grandfather,  and  they  have  to  show  their 
piety  towards  him."  Then  turning  from  the  scoffer, 
"  Hasten,"  he  called  to  the  young  men  ;  "  run  with 
him  to  the  proper  place  ' '  ;  and  away  they  sped  across 
the  plain  towards  the  pueblo,  the  writhing  reptile  still 
borne  high  in  the  air,  and  the  bunch  of  feathers  still 
playing  around  its  angry  jaws. 

"  Well,  I  'm  jiggered  !  "  said  Stephens.  "  I  never 
saw  such  a  thing  as  that  in  my  life.  I  say,  Cacique, 
what  is  it  that  you  want  to  do  with  the  brute,  anyhow  ? 
Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  make  a  deity  of 
him  ?  " 

The  cacique's  face  assumed  the  same  rapt  and 
solemn  expression  it  had  worn  during  what  Stephens 
had  irreverently  called  the  prayer-meeting. 

"  These  are  our  mysteries,  Sooshiuamo,"  he  said 
with  a  voice  of  awe  ;  ' '  it  is  not  for  you  to  inquire  into 
them.  Be  warned,  for  it  is  dangerous. ' ' 


Blasting  the  Acequia  37 

"  Oh,  blow  your  mysteries  !  "  said  Stephens  in  Eng- 
lish, under  his  breath.  "  Very  well,  Salvador,"  he 
went  on  aloud.  "  I  'm  sure  I  don't  want  to  go  poking 
my  nose  into  other  people's  business.  I  think  I  '11 
just  say  good-morning.  I  've  blasted  that  rock  for 
you  all  right.  Now  you  see  if  you  can  make  that  ditch 
work  ;  if  you  can't,  you  come  and  tell  me,  and  I  '11  see 
what  more  I  can  do  to  fix  it  for  you.  So  long  ' '  ;  and 
without  more  ado  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked 
off  down  to  the  river. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  RACE  WITH  A  MULE 

WHEN  Stephens  arrived  at  the  edge  of  the  terrace 
on  which  the  plough-lands  lay,  he  looked 
down  on  the  green  expanse  of  meadow  through  which 
the  river  ran,  and  feeding  in  it  half  a  mile  below  he 
saw  some  stock  that  he  knew  must  be  his.  "  There 
they  are,"  said  he  to  himself.  "  I  reckon  I  '11  take 
Jinks  and  go  down  to  San  Remo  and  get  my  mail,  and 
see  if  those  Winchester  cartridges  that  I  sent  for  from 
Santa  F6  came  last  night." 

He  clambered  down  the  abrupt  bank  of  red  clay  to 
the  meadow,  and  followed  down  the  line  of  the  stream 
till  he  came  to  where  his  stock  were  eagerly  cropping 
the  fresh  green  grass. 

"  Now  how  am  I  going  to  catch  him  ?  "  said  he  to 
himself.  "  Let  's  see  where  Felipe  and  the  lariats 
are  ' '  ;  and  looking  round,  he  presently  perceived  some 
clothes  on  the  river  bank,  and  going  to  them  found 
Felipe,  stripped  to  his  waist-cloth,  splashing  about  in 
the  middle  of  a  deep  pool. 

"  Hullo,  Felipe  !  "  cried  he  playfully.  "  Trying  to 
drown  j^ourself  there  ?  You  must  go  to  the  Rio  Grande 
for  that — there  is  n't  water  enough  in  the  Santiago 
River." 

Felipe  heard  him  indistinctly,  and  came  towards  him, 
38 


A  Race  with  a  Mule  39 

swimming  in  Indian  style  with  an  amazingly  vigorous 
overhand  stroke.  Stephens  picked  up  one  of  the  lariats 
that  were  lying  loose  on  the  ground  by  the  clothes,  and 
swinging  the  noose  round  his  head,  jestingly  tried  to 
lasso  the  lad.  Missing  him,  he  turned  it  off  with,  "  I 
don't  want  you  yet.  I  want  the  big  mule  ;  I  'm  going 
to  catch  him  and  go  down  to  San  Remo  "  ;  and  suiting 
the  action  to  the  word,  he  coiled  the  lariat  as  he 
spoke,  and  turned  and  started  for  the  beasts. 

Felipe  came  out  and  stood  on  the  bank  to  watch  him. 
"  What  a  good  humour  he  's  in  now,"  thought  the  boy. 
"  I  suppose  he  was  lucky  with  the  rock.  Now  is  my 
time  to  ask  him  for  the  mare. ' ' 

Stephens,  holding  the  coil  of  rope  behind  him  to 
conceal  his  intention  from  the  mule  he  desired  to  catch, 
cautiously  approached  him.  Jinks,  the  mule,  however, 
was  not  to  be  deceived  for  a  moment,  and  as  his  master 
came  near,  turned  his  heels  to  him  and  scuttled  off. 
Horses  and  mules  where  they  have  frequently  to  wear 
hobbles  become  surprisingly  active  in  them.  They 
bound  along  for  a  short  distance,  in  an  up-and-down 
rocking-horse  galop,  so  fast  that  even  a  man  on  horse- 
back has  to  make  his  mount  put  his  best  foot  forward 
to  get  up  to  them.  Stephens  found  himself  outpaced, 
and  gave  it  up,  seeing  that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
capture  the  truant  single-handed. 

Felipe  flew  to  his  side  in  a  moment.  "  Let  me  try 
to  catch  him,  Sooshiuamo,"  cried  he,  eagerly.  "  Let 
me  !  "  and  taking  the  lariat  from  the  not  unwilling 
hands  of  the  American,  he  started  off,  coiling  it  rapidly 
as  he  ran.  Before  bathing  he  had  undone  his  pigtail, 
and  his  long,  glossy  black  hair  hung  in  thick,  wavy 
masses  down  to  his  waist.  Among  the  Indians,  the  wo- 
men cut  their  hair  short — if  it  remained  uncut  the  care 


40  Lone  Pine 

of  it  would  take  too  long,  and  would  keep  them  from 
their  household  duties  ;  but  the  men,  having  more 
leisure,  allow  theirs  to  grow,  and  are  very  proud  of 
its  luxuriance  and  beauty.  As  Felipe  ran,  his  stream- 
ing locks  floated  out  behind  him  on  the  air  like  the 
mane  of  a  wild  horse,  and  gave  to  his  figure  a  wonder- 
fully picturesque  effect ;  his  wet  skin  shone  in  the  sun 
the  colour  of  red  bronze. 

The  Pueblo  Indians  are  fine  runners  ;  they  have  in- 
herited fleetness  of  foot  and  endurance  from  their  fore- 
fathers, and  keep  up  the  standard  by  games  and  races 
among  themselves.  Felipe,  young  though  he  was, 
had  no  superior  in  swiftness  in  the  village.  He  darted 
like  a  young  stag  across  the  meadow  after  the  fugitive 
mule,  and  chased  him  at  full  speed  down  to  the  river 
brink,  and  over  the  dry  shingle  banks  of  its  very  bed. 
The  pebbles  rattled  and  flew  back  in  showers  from  the 
hoof-prints  of  the  mule.  Round  they  wheeled,  back 
into  the  meadow  again  ;  and  here  the  Indian,  putting 
on  an  astonishing  burst  of  speed,  fairly  ran  the  quad- 
ruped down,  lassoed  him,  and  brought  him  to  his 
master. 

"  Here  he  is,  senor,"  said  he  modestly,  handing 
Stephens  the  rope. 

"Well  done,  Felipe,"  said  Stephens.  "You  did 
that  well.  You  do  run  like  an  antelope."  He  felt 
quite  a  glow  of  admiration  for  the  athletic  youth  who 
stood  panting  before  him,  resting  his  hand  on  the 
mule's  back. 

"  Now  's  my  time,"  thought  Felipe,  "  what  luck!— 
oh,  Don  Estevan,"  he  began,  and  then  stopped  with 
downcast  eyes. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  "  said  Stephens  kindly. 

"  Oh,   Don  Estevan,   if  you  would  lend  me  your 


A  Race  with  a  Mule  41 

mare  !  "  The  murder  was  out,  and  Felipe  looked  up 
at  his  employer  beseechingly.  "  I  would  take  such 
care  of  her  !  "  he  continued  ;  "  I  would  indeed." 

' '  L,end  her  for  what  ?  ' '  said  Stephens,  a  little  taken 
aback.  "  What  do  you  want  with  her  ?  " 

' '  I  want  her  to  go  to  Enseuada  to-night, ' '  said  the 
boy. 

"  Oh,  but  Felipe,  I  'm  going  to  the  sierra  to-morrow 
to  hunt,  you  know.  It  is  n't  possible.  But,"  he  con- 
tinued, touched  a  little  by  the  boy's  evident  distress, 
"  what  do  you  want  to  do  there  ?  Why  don't  you  get 
your  father's  horse  ? ' ' 

' '  He 's  at  the  herd.  My  father  does  n't  let  me, ' '  said 
Felipe  despondently.  Then  he  went  on,  "  I  thought 
perhaps  you  did  n't  go  for  a  day  or  two.  I  will  bring 
her  back  to-morrow  in  the  night.  And  she  shall  not 
be  tired — not  a  bit.  Oh,  do  lend  her  to  me  !  Please 
do!" 

"  I  wonder  what  foolery  he  's  up  to  now,"  said 
Stephens  to  himself ;  ' '  I  do  hate  to  lend  a  horse  any- 
how—  and  to  a  harebrained  Indian  boy  who  '11  just 
ride  all  the  fat  off  her  in  no  time.  Cheek,  I  call  it,  of 
him  to  ask  it." 

"  But,"  he  continued  in  a  not  unfriendly  tone,  "  why 
do  you  want  her  ?  Is  it  flour  you  have  to  fetch  ?  ' ' 
Wheat  flour  was  rather  scarce  this  spring  in  the  pueblo, 
and  some  of  the  Indians  were  buying  it  over  on  the 
Rio  Grande. 

"  No,  sir,  it  's  not  that.  Only  I  want  her,"  he 
added.  "  Oh  please,  Don  Estevan,  please,"  said  he 
with  an  imploring  face  ;  "do  lend  the  mare  or  the 
mule,  or  anything  to  ride.  Oh  do  !  "  and  he  threw  all 
the  entreaty  he  was  capable  of  into  his  voice,  till  it 
trembled  and  almost  broke  into  a  sob. 


42  Lone  Pine 

' '  Why,  what  ails  the  boy  ?  ' '  said  Stephens,  sur- 
prised at  his  emotion.  "  If  you  want  it  so  bad,"  he 
continued,  "  why  don't  you  ask  it  from  Tostado,  or 
Miguel,  or  some  of  them  ?  They  '11  let  you  have  one. 
You  know  I  never  lend  mine.  If  I  did  once,  all  the 
pueblo  would  be  borrowing  them  every  day.  You  know 
it  yourself.  You  've  always  told  me  yourself  that  it 
would  be  like  that."  He  was  trying  to  harden  his 
heart  by  going  over  his  stock  argument  against  lend- 
ing. "  You  see  I  can't  do  it.  I  'in  going  off  to  the 
sierra  to-morrow,"  and  he  turned  away,  leading  the 
mule  after  him  by  the  rope. 

But  before  he  had  gone  far  he  stopped  and  looked 
round  as  if  an  idea  had  struck  him.  "  It  might  be  a 
good  notion  to  try  and  pump  this  boy  a  bit  right  now, ' ' 
he  considered  ;  "  he  's  so  desperate  eager  to  borrow  the 
mare  he  might  be  willing  to  let  out  a  thing  or  two  to 
please  me."  He  beckoned  with  his  hand  to  Felipe, 
who  was  gazing  regretfully  after  his  employer. 

"See  here,  Felipe,"  said  Stephens,  as  the  boy 
eagerly  ran  to  him  ;  "  there  's  something  that  I  had  in 
my  mind  to  ask  you,  only  I  forgot.  It  's  just  simply 
this — did  you  ever  kill  a  rattlesnake  ?  ' ' 

"  Never,  oh,  never  in  my  life  !  "  cried  the  young 
Indian,  with  a  voice  of  horror. 

' '  Well,  and  why  not  ? ' '  persisted  the  other. 
"What  's  your  reason  anyway?  What  is  there  to 
prevent  you  ? ' ' 

' '  Oh,  but,  Sooshiuamo,  why  should  I  ?  "  said  the 
boy  in  an  embarrassed  manner,  looking  distractedly  at 
the  ground  as  he  balanced  himself  uneasily  on  one 
bare  foot,  crossing  the  other  over  it,  and  twiddling  his 
toes  together.  "  I  don't  know,"  he  added  after  a 
pause.  "  Why  should  I  kill  them  ?  " 


A  Race  with  a  Mule  43 

"  Well,  they  're  ugly,  venomous  things,"  said  the 
American,  "  and  that  would  be  reason  enough  for  any- 
body, I  should  think.  But  tell  me  another  thing  then. 
What  do  your  folks  do  with  them  in  the  estufa  ?  Can't 
you  tell  me  that  much  ? ' ' 

"  What  are  you  saying  about  things  in  the  estufa  ?  " 
cried  the  boy  excitedly.  "  Have  any  of  the  Mexicans 
,  been  telling  you,  then,  that  we  keep  a  sacred  snake  in 
the  pueblo  ?  Don't  you  ever  believe  it,  don't,  don't!  " 
and  his  voice  rose  to  a  passionate  shrillness  that  be- 
trayed the  anxiety  aroused  in  him  by  any  intrusion  on 
the  mysteries  of  his  people. 

"  The  Mexicans  be  blowed !  "  said  Stephens.  "I'm 
talking  to  you  now  of  what  I  've  just  been  seeing  with 
my  own  eyes.  There  was  a  big  old  rattler  came  out 
of  the  rock  after  I  blasted  it,  and  young  Antonio  went 
and  caught  it  by  the  neck  and  let  it  twist  itself  around 
his  arm,  and  another  fellow  went  to  playing  with  it 
with  a  bunch  of  feathers,  and  then  they  ran  off  with  it 
to  the  pueblo, — the  cacique  told  them  to, — and  half  a 
dozen  more  chaps  with  them,  as  tight  as  they  could  go. 
Now  I  want  to  know  what  all  that  amounts  to." 

' '  I  can  tell  you  this  much, ' '  said  Felipe  after  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation;  "  Antonio  is  one  of  the  Snakes  ;  so 
were  the  others,  of  course,  who  went  with  him.  The 
snake  is  their  grandfather,  and  so  they  know  all  about 
snakes.  But  I  'm  a  Turquoise,  like  you,  Sooshiuamo. 
You  are  my  uncle,"  he  added  insinuatingly,  "  and 
you  should  be  kind  to  me  and  lend  me  a  horse  some- 
times. ' ' 

The  American  laughed  aloud.  "  Oh,  I  know  all 
about  Grandfather  Snake  and  Grandfather  Turquoise 
and  the  rest  of  them,"  he  said.  "  But  I  'm  not  an 
Indian,  and  I  don't  come  into  your  family  tree,  even 


44  Lone  Pine 

if  you  do  call  me  Sooshiuamo  and  I  live  in  a  Turquoise 
house.  I  don't  lay  claim  to  be  any  particular  sort  of 
uncle  to  you.  But  I  do  want  you  should  tell  me  some- 
thing more  about  this  snake-charming  business.  Can't 
you  let  it  out  ?  ' ' 

1 '  But  how  can  I  let  it  out  ? ' '  exclaimed  Felipe  in  an 
irritated  voice.  "  Have  n't  I  told  you  already  that  the 
Snakes  know  all  about  it,  and  not  me  ?  You  may  be 
sure  the  Snakes  keep  their  own  affairs  private,  and 
don't  show  them  to  outsiders.  How  should  I  know 
anything  about  the  Snakes'  business  ? ' ' 

"  Well,  Felipe,  if  you  won't,  you  won't,  I  suppose," 
said  Stephens.  "  I  know  you  can  be  an  obstinate 
young  pig  when  you  choose. ' '  He  did  not  more  than 
half  believe  in  the  lad's  professed  ignorance.  He  hesi- 
tated a  moment  as  if  in  doubt  whether  to  try  another 
tack.  "  Look  here,  young  'un,"  he  began  again  in  a 
friendlier  tone,  "  I  '11  pass  that.  We  '11  play  it  you 
don't  know  anything  about  snakes.  You  're  a  full- 
blooded  Turquoise  boy,  you  are,  and  your  business  is 
to  know  all  about  turquoises,  and  turquoise  mines,  and 
so  on.  Very  well."  He  was  pleased  to  see  a  sort  of 
conscious  smile  come  over  the  lad's  mouth  almost  in- 
voluntarily. "  All  right  then.  Let 's  play  it  that  you 
are  my  nephew  if  you  like.  Now  then,  fire  ahead,  you, 
and  tell  your  uncle  all  about  where  we  go  to  get  our 
turquoises  from.  You  're  bound  to  be  posted  up  in 
these  family  matters.  There 's  a  lot  of  things  your  uncle 
wants  to  hear.  The  silver  plates  for  the  horse  bridles, 
for  instance,  now  ;  let 's  hear  where  they  come  from. 
Go  on  ;  tell  me  about  our  silver  mines." 

' '  No,  no,  no  !  "  he  cried  desperately,  and  he  sprang 
back  as  if  the  American  had  struck  him  with  a  whip. 
"  It  is  impossible  ;  there  are  n't  any;  there  are  no  such 


A  Race  with  a  Mule  45 

things  ;  the  Mexicans  have  been  telling  you  that,  too, 
have  they  ?  but  they  're  all  liars,  yes,  liars  ;  don't  you 
ever  believe  one  word  that  they  say  about  us."  He 
paused,  his  lips  parted  with  excitement  and  his  lithe 
frame  passionately  convulsed. 

Regretfully  Stephens  looked  at  him  and  recognised 
that  it  was  hopeless  to  get  anything  out  of  him,  at  least 
in  his  present  condition.  "Very  well,  Felipe,"  he 
said,  "  I  think  I  understand  your  game.  You  just 
don't  choose,  and  that  's  about  the  size  of  it"  ;  and 
gathering  up  the  coils  of  the  lariat  he  turned  abruptly 
away  and  led  off  the  reluctant  Captain  Jinks  in  the 
direction  of  the  pueblo  in  order  to  saddle  him  up.  He 
felt  decidedly  cheap  ;  as  yet  he  had  not  scored  a  single 
trick  in  the  game  he  was  trying  to  play. 

Felipe  stood  looking  after  him  disconsolately;  at  last 
he  gave  a  heavy  sigh  and  walked  back  to  where  he  had 
left  his  clothes,  with  drooping  head  and  flagging  step, 
a  figure  how  unlike  the  elastic  form  that  had  burst  full 
speed  across  the  meadow  five  minutes  before.  ' '  It'  s  no 
use,"  said  he  to  himself.  "  He  does  n't  care  ;  he  's  a 
very  hard  man,  is  Don  Estevan."  He  did  up  his 
glossy  hair  into  its  queue,  put  on  his  long  buckskin 
leggings  and  his  cotton  shirt,  worn  outside  in  Indian 
fashion  like  a  tunic  and  secured  with  a  leather  belt, 
bound  his  red  handkerchief  as  a  turban  round  his  head 
— the  universal  pueblo  head-dress — and  with  a  very 
heavy  heart  went  back  to  his  weeding. 


CHAPTER  V 

"OJOS  AZULES   NO   MIRAN  " 

azules  no  miran — Blue  eyes  don't  see," 
said  a  soft  voice  to  Stephens  in  gently  rallying 
tones.  He  was  sitting  on  Captain  Jinks  in  the  road- 
way, nearly  opposite  to  the  first  house  in  San  Remo, 
with  his  eyes  shaded  under  his  arched  hands,  and 
gazing  fixedly  back  across  the  long  levels  of  the  Indian 
lands  over  which  he  had  just  ridden. 

"  Si,  miran, — Yes,  they  do  see,"  he  answered  coolly, 
without  either  looking  at  the  speaker  or  removing  his 
hands  from  his  forehead,  as  he  still  continued  his 
searching  gaze.  He  was  trying  to  make  out  whether 
the  animals  he  had  left  in  Felipe's  charge  were  kept  by 
him  still  grazing  safely  in  the  meadow,  or  if  they  had 
been  allowed  to  wander  off  into  the  young  wheat.  The 
distance  to  where  he  had  left  them  feeding  was  nearer 
two  miles  than  one,  but  nature  had  gifted  him  with 
singularly  keen  vision,  and  the  frontiersman's  habit  of 
being  perpetually  on  the  lookout  had  developed  this 
power  to  the  utmost.  He  was  able  to  identify  posi- 
tively his  own  stock  amongst  the  other  animals  at  pas- 
ture, and  to  assure  himself  that,  so  far,  they  were  all 
right. 

He  took  his  hands  from  his  forehead,  straightened 
himself  in  his  saddle,  and  looked  down  at  the  person 

46 


"Ojos  Azules  no  Miran"  47 

who  had  ventured  to  speak  in  so  disrespectful  a  way 
of  the  quality  of  his  eyesight.  The  speaker  was  a 
young  Mexican  woman,  and  he  encountered  the  glance 
of  a  pair  of  eyes  as  soft  as  velvet  and  as  black  as  night, 
set  in  a  face  of  rich  olive  tint.  At  that  pleasant  sight 
his  firm  features  relaxed  into  a  smile,  and  he  took  up 
her  bantering  challenge. 

"  Si,  mzran,"  he  repeated, — "  Yes,  they  do  see,  senor- 
ita  ;  they  see  a  very  pretty  girl ' ' ;  and  with  a  cere- 
monious sweep  of  his  arm  he  took  off  his  broad  sombrero, 
as  the  conventional  way  of  emphasising  the  conven- 
tional gallantry. 

The  girl  blushed  with  pleasure  at  the  American's 
compliment.  She  had  a  dark  scarf  drawn  over  her 
head,  and  she  now  tossed  the  end  of  it  coquettishly 
across  her  face,  and  kept  up  her  bantering  tone. 

"Then,"  replied  she,  "  as  you  had  them  directed 
straight  towards  the  Indian  pueblo,  I  suppose  it  was  a 
pretty  little  Indian  squaw  they  were  gazing  back  at  so 
earnestly." 

"  No,"  he  returned  bluntly,  matter-of-fact  Anglo- 
Saxon  that  he  was  ;  "I  was  looking  back  towards 
Santiago  in  order  to  make  out  whether  my  horses  had 
got  into  the  Indians'  wheat.  But  they  're  all  right. 
And  how  is  your  father,  Don  Nepomuceno  ?  "  he  added 
civilly. 

"  He  is  very  well,  seiior  ;  he  is  now  at  home.  Won't 
you  come  in  and  see  him  ?  He  said  he  hoped  you 
would  be  coming  down  this  morning,  as  it  was  mail 
day." 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  him,"  answered  Stephens. 
' '  I  am  on  my  way  now  to  the  stage  station,  and  I  will 
look  in  as  I  return." 

San  Remo  was  the  place  where  the  weekly  mail  from 


48  Lone  Pine 

Santa  Fe"  to  Fort  Wingate  crossed  the  Santiago  River. 
It  was  a  village  of  the  Mexicans,  and  lay  just  outside 
the  boundary  of  the  four  square  leagues  of  the  Indian 
grant. 

1 '  That  is  where  we  two  were  going, ' '  she  answered, 
"  my  little  sister  and  myself,"  and  she  laid  her  hand 
on  a  little  brown  maiden  of  ten  years  or  so,  who  had 
come  out  of  the  house  and  now  stood  shyly  behind  the 
elder  sister,  holding  on  to  her  dress.  "  We  have  to 
buy  some  sugar,"  she  continued,  "  and  there  is  a  new 
storekeeper  at  the  stage  station,  and  they  say  he  sells 
cheap." 

"Then  with  your  permission,  senorita,  I  '11  walk 
along  there  with  you,"  said  the  American.  He  suited 
the  action  to  the  word,  throwing  his  right  leg  lightly 
over  the  neck  of  his  mule  and  then  dropping  both 
feet  together  to  the  ground  so  as  to  alight  facing  the 
girl. 

' '  Say,  Chiquita, ' '  and  he  addressed  the  younger 
girl,  "  don't  you  want  a  ride  ?  Let  me  put  you  up  "  ; 
but  the  child  only  smiled,  showing  her  ivory  teeth  and 
clinging  more  closely  behind  her  sister. 

"  Don't  be  a  silly,  Altagracia,"  cried  the  latter, 
bringing  her  round  to  the  front.  "  Why  don't  you  say 
'  thank  you  '  to  the  American  senor  for  his  kindness  in 
giving  you  a  ride  on  his  mule  ?  ' '  and  she  pushed  her, 
in  spite  of  her  affected  reluctance,  into  the  hands  of 
Stephens,  who  raised  her  from  the  ground  and  placed 
her,  sitting  sideways,  in  the  wide  California  saddle,  and 
gave  her  the  reins  to  hold.  Then,  resting  his  right 
hand  on  the  mule's  neck,  he  walked  forward  towards 
the  store  beside  the  elder  girl. 

"  I  heard  a  new  man  had  moved  in  and  taken 
charge  of  the  stage  station  and  post-office  this  week, ' ' 


"  Ojos  Azules  no  Miran"  49 

he  said.  ' '  Has  he  got  a  good  stock  ? — many  pretty 
things  for  the  senoras  ?  ' ' 

"  They  say  he  has  beautiful  things, — velvet  dresses 
and  splendid  shawls,"  she  replied  ;  "  but  I  have  n't 
seen  them  yet.  I  've  only  been  in  with  my  aunt  to 
buy  things  for  the  house,  not  to  see  his  dress  goods. 
But  I  hope  my  father  will  take  us  there  soon,  before  all 
the  best  of  them  are  gone.  The  wife  of  Ramon  Garcia 
got  a  lovely  pink  muslin  there.  She  showed  it  to  me 
yesterday  in  her  house.  He  's  a  very  clever  man,  too, 
is  the  new  storekeeper  ;  he  is  a  Texan,  but  he  speaks 
Spanish  beautifully,  just  like  ourselves.  He  has  a 
Mexican  wife." 

"  Ah,"  remarked  Stephens,  "  has  he  ?  What  's  his 
name,  do  you  know  ?  ' ' 

' '  Bah-koose, ' '  answered  the  girl,  giving  full  value  to 
the  broad  Spanish  vowels  which  she  imported  into  the 
somewhat  commonplace  name  of  "  Backus."  "  Don 
Tomas  Bah-koose  is  his  name,"  she  repeated.  "  He 
is  not  old,  he  appears  to  be  about  thirty,  and  he  has 
three  children.  But  perhaps  you  have  met  him  ;  is  he 
a  friend  of  yours  ?  ' ' 

' '  Backus, ' '  said  Stephens  reflectively  ;  ' '  Thomas 
Backus.  No,  I  can't  say  that  he  is  ;  I  don't  remember 
ever  meeting  anyone  of  that  name." 

' '  It  sounds  almost  like  our  Spanish  name,  Baca, ' ' 
said  she  ;  "  but  he  is  not  one  of  the  Bacas,  though  he 
has  been  living  at  Pena  Blanca,  where  so  many  of  them 
live. ' '  The  Bacas  of  New  Mexico  are  a  fine  old  family, 
sprung  from  the  loins  of  Cabeza  de  Vaca,  the  comrade 
of  Ponce  de  L,eon,  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  Spanish 
conquest. 

"  Well,"  said  Stephens,  "we  '11  soon  see  what  he 
looks  like,  anyhow,  for  here  we  are  at  the  store."  He 


5<D  Lone  Pine 

lifted  the  child  down  from  the  saddle,  and  the  two  girls 
at  once  went  inside  while  he  tied  up  his  mule  to  a 
hitching-post  that  was  set  in  front  of  the  door. 

After  he  had  finished  doing  so,  he  followed  them  in  ; 
and  stepping  across  the  threshold  he  was  instantly 
aware  of  a  surprised  glance  of  half-recognition  darted 
at  him  by  a  man  who  stood  behind  the  counter,  where 
he  was  showing  some  cotton  prints  to  three  shawl-clad 
Mexican  women.  "  Mornin',  mister,"  said  the  store- 
keeper, in  English.  "  Excuse  me  if  I  keep  you  waitin' 
a  minute  while  I  'tend  on  these  ladies." 

"  All  right,"  answered  Stephens  briefly,  and  he 
leaned  quietly  back  against  the  mud-plastered  adobe 
wall  till  the  other  should  be  at  leisure.  He  ran  his  eye 
over  the  shelves,  which,  like  those  of  most  Mexican 
country  village  shops,  contained  a  varied  assortment 
that  ranged  from  tenpenny  nails  to  the  tin  saints  whose 
shrines  decorate  even  the  poorest  hovel  in  New  Mexico. 
His  gaze  reverted  to  the  storekeeper,  who  was  a  tall, 
dark,  spare  man,  with  a  clean-shaven  face,  a  bilious 
complexion,  and  snaky  black  hair.  This,  then,  was  Mr. 
Thomas  Backus,  an  American  citizen  married  to  a 
Mexican  wife.  She  had  certainly  helped  him  to  a 
fluent  command  of  her  mother  tongue,  and  Stephens 
could  not  help  envying  the  easy  way  in  which  he  poured 
out  lavish  praises  of  his  new  goods  to  the  customers 
whom  he  was  serving.  The  purchases  of  these  ladies 
were  presently  completed,  but  they  still  remained  in 
the  store  carrying  on  an  animated  conversation  with 
Don  Nepomuceno's  daughter,  who  had  joined  them  in 
discussing  the  patterns  they  had  chosen. 

' '  And  now  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  ' '  inquired  the 
storekeeper,  looking  Stephens  in  the  face  as  he  turned 
to  him. 


"  Ojos  Azules  no  Miran"  51 

' '  Surely  I  have  met  this  man  before,  but  where  ? ' '  said 
Stephens  to  himself,  while  he  answered  Mr.  Backus's 
question  by  remarking  politely,  "  Oh,  I  'm  not  in  any 
hurry,  thank  you.  Won't  you  serve  this  young  lady 
first  ?  "  and  with  a  slight  gesture  he  indicated  Manuel- 
ita,  who  was  still  absorbed  in  the  muslins  of  her  friends. 
Rack  his  memory  as  he  would,  he  could  not  recall  the 
occasion  when  he  and  Backus  had  met  previously,  yet 
he  felt  almost  certain  it  had  occurred. 

"Why  certainly,  certainly,"  returned  the  store- 
keeper cheerily;  "  so  long  as  you  don't  mind  waitin'  a 
few  minutes,"  and  he  turned  to  the  girl.  "  Then  what 
may  I  have  the  pleasure  of  being  allowed  to  show  you, 
senorita  ?  " 

"  Two  peloncillos,  Don  Tomas,  if  you  will  be  so 
kind,"  answered  the  young  lady  ;  and  two  conical 
loaves  of  the  brown  Mexican  sugar  so  popular  in 
the  Territory  were  accordingly  wrapped  in  paper  and 
handed  over  to  her  ;  but  it  was  manifest  that  the  pretty 
frocks  were  what  were  nearest  to  her  heart,  and  she 
and  her  three  friends  still  continued  to  discuss  the  sub- 
ject with  all  the  ardour  of  connoisseurs. 

Meantime  Stephens  became  more  and  more  con- 
vinced in  his  own  mind  not  only  that  this  was  not  his 
first  encounter  with  Backus,  but  that  the  latter  was  also 
engaged  in  watching  him  as  closely  as  possible.  He 
chose,  however,  not  to  call  attention  to  this  by  any  in- 
quiry when  at  length  the  storekeeper  announced  him- 
self ready  to  wait  upon  him,  contenting  himself  with 
simply  explaining  the  object  of  his  visit  to  the  store. 

"  I  just  wanted  to  see,"  he  said  quietly,  "  if  you 
happened  to  have  a  parcel  here  for  me  by  the  stage  to- 
day from  Santa  Fe.  Stephens  is  my  name,  John  Ste- 
phens. It  's  a  parcel  from  Spiegelberg's,"  he  added 


52  Lone  Pine 

explanatorily,  "  that  I  'm  looking  for  ;  a  small,  heavy 
parcel ;  it  's  Winchester  cartridges." 

"  Oh  yes,  they  're  here  ;  the  stage  driver  left  'em  for 
you  all  right,"  said  Mr.  Backus  promptly,  reaching 
down  for  them  under  the  counter  and  handing  them 
over.  "  And  I  think  there  's  some  mail  matter  too  for 
you ;  I  '11  just  see  ' ' ;  with  which  remark  he  disappeared 
into  the  little  post-office  that  was  boarded  off  at  one  end 
of  the  store,  returning  from  there  presently  with  some 
papers  in  his  hand.  "  I  reckon  this  letter  's  for  you  "  ; 
he  read  out  the  address  with  the  laboured  enunciation 
of  a  man  of  limited  education.  ' '  To  Mr.  John  Stephens, 
living  among  the  Pueblo  Indians,  Santiago,  N.  M." 

'  Yes,  that  '11  be  for  me,"  said  Stephens,  putting  out 
his  hand  for  it. 

' '  I  reckoned  as  how  you  must  be  the  man  as  soon 
as  I  seed  you  come  in,"  answered  Backus,  handing 
over  the  letter  along  with  a  newspaper  and  a  postal 
packet,  "  'cos  by  what  I  hear  thar'  aint  no  other 
American  living  in  this  valley." 

"  Just  so,"  assented  the  prospector;  "  I  'm  the  only 
one  there  is  anywhere  around  here.  I  've  been  play- 
ing a  lone  hand  down  in  these  parts  all  winter.  For 
six  months  I  have  n't  spoken  to  an  American  except 
the  stage-driver. ' ' 

It  was  a  relief  to  him  to  talk  English  to  anyone  again 
after  so  long  an  interval,  although  he  was  not  exactly 
prepossessed  by  Mr.  Backus' s  looks,  nor  by  the  only 
thing  he  knew  for  certain  about  him,  namely,  that  he 
had  gone  and  married  a  Mexican  wife,  a  decidedly 
eccentric  thing  for  an  American  to  do,  in  Stephen s's 
eyes.  But  the  mere  sound  of  his  native  language  again 
was  music  in  his  ears,  even  though  it  were  spoken  by 
a  man  as  illiterate  as  the  storekeeper.  For,  compared 


"  Ojos  Azules  no  Miran"  53 

to  the  other,  Backus  was  illiterate.  And  it  was  a  thing 
worth  noting  about  Stephens,  who  had  had  the  advan- 
tage of  a  high-school  education,  that  though  he  now 
freely  made  use  of  the  rude,  vigorous  colloquialism  of 
the  West, — so  much  so,  indeed,  that  he  talked  to  him- 
self in  it, — yet  he  could  drop  it  in  a  moment  on  occa- 
sion. Before  a  stranger  for  whom  he  felt  an  instinctive 
distaste,  he  at  once  became  formal,  and  his  language 
took  on  a  precision  and  his  tone  a  punctiliousness  that 
were  foreign  to  his  more  familiar  discourse.  As  he 
would  have  said  of  himself,  "  If  I  don't  cotton  to  a 
man  at  once,  I  always  feel  like  putting  on  a  lot  of 
frills." 

'  You  bin  long  in  these  parts  ?  ' '  inquired  Mr. 
Backus  carelessly. 

' '  About  a  year  now  in  New  Mexico, ' '  replied  Ste- 
phens ;  "  but  I  've  been  in  this  Western  country  a 
good  deal  longer  than  that.  I  'm  not  a  tenderfoot, 
exactly,  if  I  may  say  so  ;  I  did  n't  come  to  this  country 
for  my  health." 

Many  men  whose  lungs  are  affected  have  hoped  to 
shake  off  their  dread  malady  by  breathing  the  pure, 
thin,  dry  air  of  Colorado  and  New  Mexico.  The  hardy 
Western  pioneer  pities  the  consumptive  patient ;  he 
succours  him  freely  in  distress  ;  and,  above  all  things, 
he  hates  to  be  mistaken  for  one  himself.  Stephens  was 
determined  that  his  fellow-countryman  should  be  under 
no  misapprehension  on  this  point. 

"  No,"  laughed  Mr.  Backus  lightly,  "  nor  you  don't 
look  much  like  one  of  them  pore  health-seekers  neither. 
Say,  though,"  he  continued,  more  warily,  "  you  '11  ex- 
cuse my  axin',  but  was  you  never  in  New  Mexico  be- 
fore this  last  year  ?  ' ' 

"  No,"  replied  Stephens — "  that  is — yes,  I  should 


54  Lone  Pine 

have  said,"  correcting  himself,  "  I  was  once,  but  only 
for  a  short  time,  and  that  was  some  years  ago,  and  not 
in  this  part  of  the  Territory."  He  shifted  his  position 
against  the  adobe  wall  a  little,  and  laid  down  on  the 
counter  in  a  casual  sort  of  way  the  parcel  and  the  mail 
matter  which  he  was  holding,  as  if  to  indicate  that  he 
was  ready  for  a  long  chat.  In  reality  he  was  setting 
his  hands  free  in  case  he  might  possibly  need  to  use 
them.  To  be  at  all  closely  questioned  about  one's  past 
life  by  an  absolute  stranger  acts  on  the  experienced 
Western  man  as  a  danger  signal.  He  noted  the  in- 
tense glow  in  Backus' s  eyes,  and  as  he  did  so  he  grew 
conscious  of  a  strange  sense  of  doubleness  in  his  own 
brain,  as  if  all  this  scene  had  been  enacted  once  before, 
and  he  ought  to  know  what  was  coming  next.  He 
shifted  his  waist-belt  and  left  his  thumbs  resting  lightly 
on  the  buckle  in  front  ;  it  was  a  perfectly  natural  thing 
to  do,  and  yet  it  left  his  right  hand  within  six  inches 
of  the  trusty  Colt's  revolver  at  his  hip.  Assuredly 
Stephens  was  no  tenderfoot  ;  he  was  watching  every 
motion  of  Backus  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

"  Say,  stranger,"  began  the  latter,  leaning  forward 
over  the  counter,  and  speaking  low  and  clear,  "  no 
offence,  but  I  want  to  ax  you  a  certain  question.  It 's 
a  little  sudden-like,  but  I  have  a  reason  for  it  ;  allers 
no  offence,  you  understand  ?  " 

"  You  can  ask  me  any  question  you  have  a  mind 
to,  Mr.  Backus,"  said  Stephens  coolly.  "  Of  course, 
whether  I  answer  it  or  not  is  my  choice. ' ' 

Mr.  Backus  might  be  his  fellow-countryman,  but  he 
must  learn  not  to  be  presuming.  Almost  unconsciously 
to  himself  his  tone  hardened.  Stephens  could  stand 
the  easy  familiarity  of  races  that  were  not  his  own,  and 
treat  the  Indians  of  Santiago  with  a  friendliness  that 


"  Ojos  Azules  no  Miran"  55 

was  all  the  more  kindly  for  his  own  underlying  sense 
of  superiority,  but  for  an  American  to  treat  him  lightly 
was  another  matter.  The  pride  and  reserve  that  had 
grown  up  in  solitude  revolted  at  this  man's  inquisitive- 
ness. 

"  Wai'  then,  stranger,"  continued  Backus,  with  an 
apologetic  manner  that  was  due  to  the  other's  change 
of  voice,  "  allers,  as  I  said  before,  meanin'  no  offence, 
did  you  ever  happen  to  kill  a  man  ?  " 

Manuelita,  though  apparently  absorbed  in  a  rose- 
sprigged  muslin,  caught  a  note  in  the  Texan's  tone 
that  aroused  her  vigilance.  She  knew  no  English,  but 
her  quick  brain  divined  that  when  he  asked,  "  Did 
you  ever  kill  a  man?"  he  was  putting  no  common 
question. 

Stephens  started  at  the  abrupt  query,  and  his  face 
flushed.  He  paused  a  moment,  looking  hard  at  the 
other  ;  then  he  slowly  answered,  "  I  don't  know  that  I 
have  ever  killed  anyone. ' ' 

"  Meanin',  I  take  it,"  rejoined  the  other,  "  that  you 
don't  know  for  certain,  neither,  that  you  have  n't.  I  ax 
yer  pardon  again,  stranger,  but  as  sure  as  God  made 
little  apples  I  've  got  a  reason  for  what  I  'm  saying. 
That  ar'  time  you  was  in  New  Mexico  years  ago  that 
you  spoke  of  just  now,  was  you,  by  any  chance,  at  the 
battle  of  Apache  Canon  ?  ' ' 

The  words  ' '  Apache  Canon  ' '  sent  a  thrill  through 
Mauuelita  ;  she  knew  well  that  there  had  been  a  bloody 
fight  there. 

'  Yes, ' '  answered  Stephens,  a  strange  new  light  be- 
ginning to  dawn  upon  him  ;  "I  fought  at  Apache 
Canon,  if  you  must  know." 

"You  was  on  the  Northern  side,  warn't  you?" 
queried  the  storekeeper  again. 


56  Lone  Pine 

'  Yes,"  said  the  prospector  quietly ;  "  I  was  a  volun- 
teer in  the  Second  Colorado  Regiment." 

"  By  gum,  then,  I  knowed  it  !  "  cried  the  Texan 
excitedly  ;  "  you  was  one  of  the  Pet  Lambs." 

At  the  beginning  of  the  Civil  War  the  Colorado 
troops,  a  pretty  tough  lot,  were  sometimes  sportively 
alluded  to  as  the  "  Pet  Lambs." 

A  dry  smile  came  to  Stephens's  lips  at  the  sound  of 
the  old  name.  ' '  I  was  a  Lamb, ' '  said  he. 

"  And  I  was  one  of  Baylor's  Babes,"  returned  the 
other. 

"  Baylor's  Babes  "  was  the  nickname  bestowed  upon 
a  force  of  Texas  rangers  who  invaded  New  Mexico, 
and  had  the  audacity  to  propose  to  conquer  the  whole 
Rocky  Mountain  country  for  Jefferson  Davis  off  their 
own  bats. 

"  Yes,  you  bet  I  was  a  Babe,"  he  repeated,  "  and  a 
whale  of  a  Babe  at  that,  and  hurrahed  for  Jeff  Davis  as 
long  as  I  could  stand.  But  that  's  all  over  and  done 
with  now,  and  we  've  buried  the  war  hatchet.  But 
say,  stranger,  do  you  happen  to  recollect  what  kind  of 
a  wepping  you  was  carrying  at  Apache  Canon  ?  There 
warn't  no  Winchesters  in  them  days,"  he  added,  pat- 
ting the  parcel  of  cartridges  that  lay  on  the  counter. 

"  I  was  armed  with  a  muzzle-loading  Springfield  U. 
S.  rifle,  altered  in  Denver  to  fire  with  a  tape  cap,"  re- 
plied Stephens.  His  nerves  grew  tense,  and  he  braced 
himself  for  a  possible  struggle  to  the  death,  for  he 
thought  the  Texan  was  about  to  spring  on  him  ;  but 
he  only  asked  with  quaint  earnestness  : 

"  Du  tell  ;  what 's  a  tape  cap,  mister  ?  " 

"Why,  did  you  never  see  one?"  said  Stephens. 
"  But  of  course  they  're  out  of  date  now.  It  was  a 
dodge  for  capping  a  gun  automatically.  There  was  a 


"  Ojos  Azules  no  Miran"  57 

tape  fitted  with  caps  that  was  fed  forward  on  top  of  the 
tube  in  front  of  the  hammer.  It  worked  like  a  charm. 
You  bet  there  was  no  time  lost  fumbling  around  in  your 
pouch  for  a  cap  with  your  fingers  if  you  had  one  of 
them  fixed  on  your  gun." 

"  Great  Scot  !  "  cried  Backus,  "  then  now  I  know 
how  't  was." 

He  raised  his  hands  so  suddenly  to  the  neck  of  his 
shirt  that  he  made  Stephens  think  he  was  reaching  for 
the  bowie-knife  which  some  fighting  men  carry  in  a 
sheath  under  the  coat  at  the  back  of  the  neck.  Manuel- 
ita  thought  the  same  thing,  and  drew  her  breath  hard, 
feeling  her  heart  leap  with  terror.  Instinctively  Ste- 
phens's  fingers  found  the  butt  of  his  revolver,  but  he  felt 
paralysed  at  the  thought  of  the  defenceless  women  by 
the  counter.  If  there  was  to  be  a  fuss,  how  could  they 
make  their  escape  before  it  began  ? 

But  Mr.  Backus  was  not  preparing  to  start  a  fuss, 
and  he  was  not  feeling  for  a  weapon.  He  tore  open 
the  front  of  his  shirt  excitedly  and  bared  his  breast, 
and  showed  a  livid  bluish  mark  close  beside  the  collar- 
bone. 

"  Strange  !  "-he  cried,  "  't  was  you  as  give  me  that  ; 
't  was  that  darned  tape  cap  of  yourn  as  done  me. 
Now,  don't  you  remember?  " 

' '  By  thunder,  I  do  !  "  exclaimed  Stephens.  ' '  You 
were  the  man  I  shot  that  day  at  close  quarters.  I  re- 
call your  face  now.  I  thought  I  'd  seen  you  before." 

"  I  knowed  you  the  minute  you  set  foot  inside  this 
door,"  answered  the  Texan,  drawing  himself  up,  and 
eyeing  Stephens  keenly.  "  You  see,  you  give  me  a 
good  argyment  for  remembering  you  that  day.  Shake, 
partner,"  he  added  quickly,  thrusting  out  his  bony 
right  hand  across  the  counter.  ' '  Bygones  is  bygones. 


58  Lone  Pine 

As  I  said  just  now,  we  've  buried  the  war  hatchet  for 
good,  and  /don't  bear  you  no  ill-will." 

Was  this  a  move  to  get  him  off  his  guard  ?  Stephens 
felt  more  than  half  doubtful,  but  he  decided  to  chance 
it,  especially  as  he  had  a  stout  sheath-knife  handy  at 
his  left  hip.  He  loosed  his  fingers  from  the  ready  re- 
volver butt,  and  the  two  strong  hands  met  in  a  vigor- 
ous clasp. 


CHAPTER  VI 

AN  OU>  WOUND   REOPENED 

IF  it  was  a  strange  coincidence  that  had  thus  suddenly 
brought  these  two  old  foes  together,  face  to  face,  in 
this  remote  quarter  of  New  Mexico,  it  was  a  coincidence 
no  less  strange  that  they  were  both  there  for  the  same 
object.  For  Mr.  Backus,  too,  was  after  the  lost  silver 
mine.  Ever  since  his  marriage  with  the  daughter  of  a 
Mexican  peasant  he  had  made  a  tolerably  easy  living 
in  a  small  way  by  keeping  a  country  store,  and  in  the 
knowledge  which  he  thus  gained  of  the  common  pur- 
suits and  dominant  ideas  among  the  Mexicans,  what 
fascinated  him  particularly  were  the  tales  of  hidden 
mines  and  buried  treasures  so  often  to  be  heard  amongst 
them.  Of  all  these  tales,  the  legend  of  the  secret  mine 
of  the  Indians  of  Santiago  had  excited  his  interest  most, 
so  that  when  he  learned  that  the  San  Remo  stage  sta- 
tion in  their  immediate  neighbourhood  was  vacant,  and 
afforded  an  opening  for  a  store  such  as  his,  he  speedily 
arranged  to  take  charge  of  it  and  to  transfer  himself, 
his  family,  and  his  goods  to  the  spot.  He  had  as  yet 
no  definite  plan  of  operations  beyond  keeping  his  ears 
open  for  every  scrap  of  information  that  might  come 
into  his  way  from  any  quarter,  and  doing  all  he  knew 
to  ingratiate  himself  with  the  Indians  themselves  ;  but 
the  very  first  step  he  had  proposed  to  take  was  to  find 
out  about  this  white  man  who  was  said  to  be  living 

59 


60  Lone  Pine 

among  them,  and  to  discover  what  his  objects  were  and 
how  much  he  knew.  Fortune  had  favoured  him  so  far, 
and  here  he  was  shaking  hands  with  the  man  himself, 
who  had  thus  unexpectedly  proved  to  be  no  other  than 
his  ancient  enemy. 

At  the  moment  when  the  pair  were  thus  exchanging 
signs  of  amity,  the  doorway  was  darkened  by  the  form 
of  a  tall,  swarthy,  well-dressed  Mexican.  Mr.  Backus 
hailed  the  new-comer  instantly. 

"  Welcome,  Don  Nepomuceno.  You  come  at  a  good 
hour.  See  the  wonderful  thing  that  has  happened. 
This  American  senor  that  you  were  telling  me  of  only 
yesterday,  who  lives  with  the  Indians  of  Santiago,  has 
turned  out  to  be  the  very  same  man  that  plugged  me 
in  the  great  fight  at  Apache  Canon  nine  years  ago. 
We  were  just  shaking  hands  over  it  as  you  came  in,  and 
I  've  been  showing  him  a  little  mark  over  my  lungs 
that  he  gave  me  as  a  remembrancer."  Mr.  Backus 
was  speaking  in  Spanish,  and  Manuelita  was  drinking 
in  every  syllable  with  intense  interest. 

"  Well,  if  you  come  to  that,"  returned  Stephens, 
baring  his  left  arm  and  displaying  the  scar  of  an  old 
bullet  wound  between  the  elbow  and  wrist,  "  I  can  do 
ditto.  Perhaps  you  did  n't  know  that  your  bullet  took 
me  through  the  fleshy  part  of  the  arm  here,"  and  he 
pointed  with  his  finger  to  the  place  where  the  ball  had 
entered. 

Don  Nepomuceno  Sanchez,  who  had  seen  fighting 
in  the  wars  with  the  Navajos,  and  knew  well  what 
wounds  were,  came  forward  to  examine  the  scars  of 
either  man  with  critical  eyes.  ' '  Truly  these  are  hon- 
ourable scars,"  he  said  ;  "  tell  me  about  it,  please,  if 
you  don't  mind  talking  over  old  war  times." 

"  Well,    senor,"    said   Backus,   in  his  rapid,  fluent 


An  Old  Wound  Reopened  61 

Spanish,  "  it  was  like  this  :  we  were  fighting  there  in 
the  hills,  on  opposite  sides,  as  of  course  you  know  ; 
and  naturally,  being  all  frontiersmen  on  both  sides,  we 
advanced  under  cover  as  much  as  ever  we  could,  firing 
as  we  got  a  chance.  And  so  it  came  about  that  he  and 
I,  sudden-like,  found  ourselves  quite  close  to  one  an- 
other in  the  brush,  and  we  both  fired  as  it  might  be  at 
the  same  moment.  He  must  have  missed  me  clean 
that  time,  but  according  to  the  way  he  tells  it,  I  must 
have  plugged  him  right  through  that  left  arm  of  his  ; 
I  did  n't  even  know  as  I  'd  touched  him  though,  for  it 
never  seemed  to  phase  him,  and  we  both  of  us  set  to 
reloading  in  a  hurry,  you  bet.  We  both  put  in  the 
powder,  and  both  rammed  down  the  bullets,  and  I  had 
got  a  trifle  ahead  of  him  as  I  brought  up  my  gun  to 
the  hip  in  order  to  have  it  ready  to  put  on  the  cap. 
Wai',  I  'm  jiggered  if  he  did  n't  leave  out  the  capping 
part  of  the  business,  and  brought  his  piece  straight  up 
to  his  shoulder  to  draw  a  bead  on  me.  You  bet  I  just 
thought  I  knowed  as  I  'd  got  the  dead  wood  on  him 
then.  '  Got  ye,  Yank,'  I  called  out,  slipping  the  cap 
on  my  tube,  '  ye  haint  capped  yer  gun.'  '  Don't  want 
to, '  sez  he ;  and  whang-g-g !  she  went,  and  took  me  right 
here  through  the  lung  ;  and  that  was  the  last  I  ever 
knowed  of  anything  for  about  a  day  and  a  half.  You 
see,  he  had  some  kind  of  a  gol-durned,  stem-winding 
trick  on  his  gun  that  did  the  capping  for  him,  that  I 
did  n't  know  nothing  about." 

"  Well,  now  it  's  all  over,"  said  Stephens  frankly, 
"I  'm  real  glad  to  learn  that  your  wound  was  n't 
mortal.  My  company  fell  back  directly  after  we  ex- 
changed shots,  so  that  I  never  knew  what  had  become 
of  you." 

"  Oh,"  said  the  Texan,  "  they  patched  me  up  in  the 


62  Lone  Pine 

hospital  somehow  or  another,  and  then  I  was  took  in 
and  nursed  in  a  Mexican  family,  and  the  end  of  it  was 
I  married  one  of  the  darters  and  settled  in  the  Terri- 
tory, and  here  I  am  with  a  wife  and  three  kids,  and 
running  a  store.  I  do  keep  a  little  good  whisky,  too, 
you  may  like  to  know.  Say,  won't  you  take  a  drink  ? 
It  's  my  treat.  You  '11  join  us  in  a  tragito,  won't  you, 
Don  Nepomuceno  ?  ' ' 

"I  '11  drink  with  you  with  pleasure,"  said  Stephens, 
' '  if  you  '11  allow  me  to  take  it  in  something  like  a  lemon 
soda.  Whisky  's  a  thing  I  don't  use,  if  you  '11  excuse 
me." 

"Surely,  surely,"  in  amiable  tones  remarked  Mr. 
Backus,  who  was  setting  out  on  the  counter  a  three- 
parts  full  decanter  and  some  glasses.  "  I  '11  try  and 
mix  something  of  the  lemon-soda  order  as  near  as  I 
can  fix  it."  He  had  hoped  to  get  Stephens  into  a 
loquacious  mood  and  pump  him  over  a  few  social  drinks, 
but  he  was  too  cunning  to  show  any  trace  of  disappoint- 
ment. "  Every  man  has  a  right  to  choose  his  own 
liquor  ;  I  don't  quarrel  with  no  man's  taste,"  he  said, 
as  he  passed  the  decanter  to  Don  Nepomuceno,  with  a 
familiar  "  Help  yourself,  friend,"  and  busied  himself  in 
searching  for  materials  for  concocting  some  kind  of  a 
temperance  drink  for  his  other  guest. 

Sanchez  poured  a  little  of  the  strong  spirit  into  a 
glass  and  filled  it  up  with  water.  "  You  are  coming 
to  take  dinner  in  my  house  presently,  are  you  not,  Don 
Estevan  ?  "  he  said  in  his  courteous  tones,  addressing 
Stephens,  who  accepted  the  invitation  cordially. 
"  Manuelita,  my  child,"  he  turned  to  his  eldest  daugh- 
ter, "  run  home  now  quick  with  Altagracia,  and  tell 
your  aunt  that  Don  Estevan  is  coining  and  to  have 
dinner  ready  soon." 


An  Old  Wound   Reopened  6 


o 


The  temperance  drink  was  compounded,  and  the 
three  men  clinked  glasses  and  pledged  each  other. 

"  And  what  have  you  bin'  doing  ever  since  our  last 
meeting  ? ' '  said  Mr.  Backus  genially  to  his  former  foe. 
"  I  've  give  ye  my  story  ;  now  let  's  hear  yourn." 

' '  Mining, ' '  said  Stephens  with  curt  emphasis.  The 
word  made  the  Texan  give  a  start  of  surprise.  ' '  Yes, ' ' 
he  continued,  "  it  's  mining  and  prospecting  for  gold 
and  silver  that  has  been  my  trade  ever  since  ;  and, 
what  's  more,  I  've  travelled  over  a  good  part  of  the 
Pacific  slope  at  it,  too.  It  's  a  game  you  get  terribly 
stuck  on  after  once  you  take  to  it.." 

"Mining,  eh?"  said  the  Texan  with  affected  in- 
difference. "  Wai',  that  ar  's  a  thing  as  I  dunno  no- 
thin'  at  all  about." 

He  gave  a  careless  laugh.  "  Oh,  by  the  way,"  he 
said,  turning  his  back  on  the  two  men  and  rummaging 
on  the  shelf  behind  him  for  a  couple  of  cans  of  oysters 
which  he  displayed  with  a  great  show  of  earnestness, 
"  that  's  the  brand  of  oysters,  Don  Nepomuceno,  that 
I  meant  to  bring  to  your  notice,  first  chance.  I  can 
recommend  'em  ;  they  're  prime." 

"  Yes,"  he  continued,  turning  again  to  Stephens, 
"  you  was  saying  as  how  you  was  interested  in  mines  ; 
but  as  far  as  that  goes,  why  there  ain't  no  mines  being 
worked  in  this  part  of  the  country,  not  as  I  know  of. ' ' 
A  suspicious  man  might  have  guessed  that  Backus's 
interest  in  the  possibility  of  a  mine  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Santiago  was  a  good  deal  stronger  than  he 
chose  to  let  appear,  but  John  Stephens  was  not  of  a 
suspicious  nature. 

"  No,"  he  said  in  reply,  "  there  aren't  any  now,  but 
there  have  been,  and  there  will  be  again,  if  I  'm  any 
judge."  Then,  reflecting  that  he  might  say  too 


64  Lone  Pine 

much,  and  checking  himself  he  went  on  more  cau- 
tiously. "  But  I  don't  see  any  opening  here  myself. 
I  guess  I  'm  about  through  with  New  Mexico  for  the 
present,  and  I  calculate  to  light  out  for  Colorado  pretty 
soon.  The  railroads  have  got  in  there,  and  there  's  a 
boom  on." 

Mr.  Backus  was  sharp  at  reading  other  people's  mo- 
tives, and  saw  in  an  instant  that  Stephens  was  trying 
to  disguise  his.  So  much  the  more  reason  for  finding 
out  what  they  were. 

' '  What !  going  off  to  Colorado  ?  "  he  exclaimed  with 
an  air  of  surprise.  "  Why,  I  'd  understood  from  the 
folks  here  that  you  had  settled  down  in  Santiago  for 
keeps.  That  's  really  how  I  come  to  hear  of  you  ;  I 
heard  that  you  was  a  white  man  living  amongst  them 
Indians,  and  had  joined  the  tribe  ;  so  I  supposed  you 
was  adopted  by  them,  and  had  gone  and  got  hitched  up 
with  a  squaw." 

Stephens's  eyes  flashed. 

"  Should  n't  wonder  if  that  drawed  him  out  a  bit," 
reflected  Mr.  Backus  privately  to  himself. 

"  If  anyone  told  you  so,"  said  the  prospector  stiffly, 
' '  let  me  tell  you  that  you  have  been  misinformed.  No< 
sir,  squaws  are  n't  in  my  line  ;  I  'm  not  that  sort  of  a 
man.  I  never  have  proposed  to  go  outside  of  my  own 
colour,  and  I  never  will. ' ' 

Mr.  Backus  gave  a  short  laugh.  The  word  colour 
touched  him  on  the  raw.  He  was  married  to  a  Mexi- 
can, and  many  Americans  are  undiscriminating  enough 
to  class  the  Mexicans  with  coloured  people.  The  Mexi- 
cans themselves  naturally  resent  such  a  slight  on  their 
race  ;  although  a  part  of  them  have  more  or  less  Indian 
blood  in  their  veins,  they  prefer  to  ignore  that  side  of 
their  pedigree  and  trace  their  descent  solely  back  to  the 


An  Old  Wound  Reopened  65 

conquering  cavaliers  of  Spain.  But  Mr.  Backus  was 
himself  a  quarter-blooded  Indian.  He  called  himself 
a  Texan,  and  passed  as  such;  though  he  was  born  in 
the  Indian  Territory  and  his  mother  had  been  a  half- 
breed  Cherokee. 

He  changed  the  subject  abruptly.  "  Fill  your  glass 
again,  Don,"  he  said,  pushing  the  decanter  towards 
the  Mexican.  "  It  's  good  whiskey,  real  old  Bourbon. 
'  There  is  n't  a  headache  in  a  hogshead  of  it,'  as  the 
Irishman  said." 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  no,  if  you  will  excuse  me," 
replied  the  Mexican,  "  I  have  sufficient.  I  think  I 
must  be  going, ' '  he  went  on,  for  indeed  he  felt  a  little 
out  of  it,  seeing  that  the  two  Americans  had  dropped 
back  instinctively  into  talking  in  their  own  language, 
of  which  he  knew  but  a  few  words.  "  I  shall  see  you 
again,  then,  presently,  Don  Estevan,  at  my  house,"  and 
bowing  politely  he  departed  homewards. 

"  That  man  's  darned  well  fixed,  I  can  tell  you," 
remarked  the  storekeeper,  refilling  his  own  glass  and 
tossing  it  off  as  soon  as  the  Mexican  had  gone.  "  And 
what  's  more,  he  's  a  square  man,  too.  I  don't  mind 
saying  that  Nepomuceno  Sanchez  can  just  have  all  the 
credit  he  wants  at  this  store.  He  's  one  of  the  heirs  to 
the  Sanchez  grant,  and  that  gives  him  the  use  of  all 
the  pasture  land  he  needs  for  his  sheep.  He  's  a  very 
peart  business  man,  for  a  Mexican.  I  used  to  come 
across  him  over  in  Pena  Blanca,  you  know.  He  's  a 
relation  of  old  man  Baca's  by  marriage,  and  he  's  got  a 
lot  of  his  sheep  on  shares  and  makes  a  good  thing  of  it. ' ' 

The  personage  irreverently  referred  to  by  the  Texan 
as  ' '  old  man  Baca  ' '  was  the  head  of  the  family  of  that 
name,  and  a  man  of  no  small  position  and  wealth.  The 

old  families  of  New  Mexico  own  immense  flocks  of 
s 


66  Lone  Pine 

hardy  little  Mexican  sheep,  whose  numbers  often  run 
into  hundreds  of  thousands.  Their  flocks  are  divided 
into  bauds  of  a  few  thousand  and  let  out  on  shares  to 
retainers,  who  return  a  rent  in  kind  of  the  wool  and 
the  increase.  The  relation  between  these  retainers 
and  the  heads  of  the  great  families  is  semi-feudal. 

"  Yes,"  said  Stephens,  "  taking  sheep  on  shares  is  a 
good  business.  I  've  seen  his  son,  young  Andres 
Sanchez,  up  there  on  that  Sanchez  grant  with  their 
sheep  herd  when  I  've  been  out  on  the  mountains." 

"  Oh,  you  've  been  up  on  the  mountains  round 
here  ?  "  said  Backus,  who  saw  his  chance  to  lead  the 
conversation  once  more  in  the  direction  he  wanted. 
' '  Mining,  I  suppose  ?  "  he  added,  as  if  it  were  an 
afterthought. 

"  Well,  I  've  prospected  some,"  returned  the  other. 
"  But  you  've  heard  me  say  I  did  n't  think  much  of 
the  opening  here. ' ' 

"  Ever  take  any  of  the  Indians  out  prospecting  with 
you  ?  "  inquired  the  Texan.  "  They  've  bin  here  so 
long  they  'd  ought  to  know  if  there  's  anything  lying 
around  worth  looking  at.  Did  they  never  tell  you 
anything  about  mines  ?  "  He  let  these  last  words  fall 
after  a  pause  with  studied  carelessness. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  the  prospector,  "  I  've  learnt  nothing 
from  the  Indians,  and  it 's  highly  possible  that  they  've 
nothing  to  tell." 

"  You  never  thought  to  ask  'em,  I  suppose  ?  "  sug- 
gested Backus. 

"Why  should  I?"  returned  the  other  quietly. 
"  May  I  ask,  Mr.  Backus,  if  you  've  any  special  reason 
for  these  questions  ?  " 

The  Texan  hesitated  ;  he  felt  sure  now  that  his  old 
antagonist  was  not  at  Santiago  by  mere  chance,  but 


An  Old  Wound  Reopened  67 

had  an  object  in  view  which  he  did  not  care  to  disclose. 
He  quickly  decided  to  try  and  gain  his  confidence  by  a 
show  of  openness. 

"  Wai',  yes,  I  have,"  he  admitted  ;  "  I  guess  I  've 
got  some  information  that  might  be  of  value  to  anyone 
as  knew  how  to  use  it. ' ' 

' '  What  could  he  mean  ?  ' '  Stephens  thought.  ' '  Was 
this  information  the  knowledge  of  the  secret  mine  ? 
If  so,  it  might  be  worth  while  to  make  terms  with  him, 
as  the  Indians  seemed  to  be  so  impracticable." 

"  If  anyone  will  show  me  a  mine,"  said  the  pro- 
spector, "  I  can  tell  him  if  it  's  worth  working,  and 
how  to  work  it. ' ' 

' '  Yes, ' '  returned  Backus,  ' '  and  if  so  what  terms 
would  you  expect  ?  ' ' 

"  A  half-interest,"  said  Stephens.  "  If  I  thought  it 
good  enough  I  'd  take  a  half-interest  and  bear  my 
share  of  the  expenses. ' ' 

"That  's  a  square  offer,"  replied  the  Texan. 
"  Now  look  at  here.  Now,  s'posin'  I  was  to  tell  you 
of  a  mine  in  this  neighbourhood,  you  'd  be  willing  to 
do  that  with  me  ?  ' ' 

' '  Are  you  referring  to  the  lost  mine  of  the  Indians  ? ' ' 
asked  the  prospector.  It  was  not  worth  while  to  make 
any  further  mystery  of  the  matter,  for  the  Texan  had 
obviously  heard  the  story. 

' '  That '  s  j  ust  what  I  am, "  said  Backus.  ' '  I  thought 
as  how  you  must  have  heard  some  talk  about  it.  Now 
you  allow  as  you  don't  know  where  it  is." 

"  I  do  not,"  said  the  other. 

"  Wai',  I  do,"  said  Backus.  "  And  I  '11  tell  it  to 
you  on  your  own  terms,  and  that  's  a  half-interest 
for  each  of  us.  It 's  on  the  Indian  grant  up  in  the 
mountains." 


68  Lone  Pine 

"  Well,  I  knew  that  much,"  said  Stephens. 

"Ah,"  returned  the  Texan,  "but  I  can  tell  you 
more  'n  that.  The  Indians  haint  got  no  right  to  keep 
it ;  that  grant  haint  been  confirmed  to  them  by  act  of 
Congress. ' ' 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,"  returned  Stephens,  with  some- 
thing that  savoured  of  contempt,  "  you  're  revealing  to 
me  as  your  precious  secret  what  's  matter  of  common 
knowledge.  If  you  ask  anyone  in  the  office  at  Santa 
Fe,  they  '11  tell  you  that  the  grant  to  the  Indians  of 
four  square  leagues  round  the  pueblo  has  been  con- 
firmed to  them,  and  that  they  own  it  from  grass-roots  to 
Hades  by  a  perfectly  indefeasible  title  ;  but  they  '11  tell 
you  there,  too,  in  the  office,  that  the  twenty  miles 
square  that  they  claim  in  the  mountains  has  never 
been  confirmed,  and  for  that  matter  is  overlapped 
by  half  a  dozen  unconfirmed  Mexican  grants  as  well. 
The  real  title  to  that  land  is  in  the  United  States 
Government.  That  's  as  old  as  a  last  year's  bird's- 
nest." 

"  I  see  you  're  well  posted  in  the  business,"  said 
Backus  ;  "  but  maybe  you  don't  know  that  the  secret 
mine  's  on  the  Cerro  de  las  Viboras.  I  can  tell  you 
that." 

' '  If  you  can  show  it  to  me  up  there  on  that  Rattle- 
snake Mountain,  Mr.  Backus,"  was  Stephens's  reply, 
"  I  'm  ready  to  acknowledge  at  once  that  you  '11  show 
me  something  I  don't  know.  But  as  you  know  so 
much  you  are  probably  aware  that  the  mine  has  been 
closed  for  a  hundred  years  or  more,  and  that  rumour 
locates  it  in  a  dozen  different  places,  and  that  to  look 
for  it  on  the  Cerro  without  knowing  where  it  is  is  to 
look  for  a  needle  in  a  haystack.  I  've  been  all  around 
that  Cerro,  you  can  bet,  but  I  have  n't  run  across  the 


An  Old  Wound  Reopened  69 

mine.  The  Cerro  's  a  mountain  five  miles  round  and 
five  thousand  feet  high,  and  a  precious  rough  mountain 
at  that.  I  'm  willing  to  go  up  there  again  ;  I  'm  ready 
to  start  to-morrow  if  you  like  ;  and  if  you  '11  show  me 
the  mine  there  I  'm  ready  to  do  as  I  said  with  you 
about  working  it ;  but  unless  you  can  do  that  I  don't 
consider  that  what  has  passed  constitutes  any  claim 
between  us  on  either  side. ' ' 

"  Wai',"  said  the  Texan,  "  I  could  n't  leave  the  store 
here  just  yet,  not  till  I  get  things  straightened  out  and 
settled  down.  Nor  I  won't  swear  for  sartin  as  I  can 
put  you  right  on  to  the  exact  spot,'  seem'  as  how  I  've 
not  been  up  thar  myself  yet ;  but  mebbe  I  can  before 
long,  and  I  reckon  that  ought  to  be  enough  for  ye. 
Say,  look  here,  could  n't  we  work  it  between  us,  some- 
how, to  get  them  Indians  to  show  us  the  spot  ?  " 

This  intrusive  Texan  had  so  far  told  Stephens  no- 
thing he  did  not  know  already,  and  now  here  he  was 
wanting  to  poach  on  the  prospector's  private  preserve 
— his  personal  influence  with  the  Indians. 

"  That  's  what  I  've  been  trying  to  do  already,  Mr. 
Backus,"  said  Stephens  irritably  ;  "  and,  to  be  plain 
with  you,  I  'm  not  looking  out  for  a  partner  in  this 
matter." 

"  Ah,  but  mebbe  that  's  just  what  you  want,"  re- 
turned the  storekeeper  imperturbably ;  ' '  mebbe  the  rea- 
son as  you  haint  won  nary  trick  so  far  is  that  you  've 
bin  playing  a  lone  hand.  Now,  I  '11  gamble  from  what 
you  said  just  now  that  you  've  bin  trying  to  get  the 
secret  out  of  the  bucks  over  there,  and  that  you  have  n't 
tried  the  women  for  it  at  all.  Now,  aint  I  right?" 
and  he  gave  the  other  a  cunning  look. 

"  I  've  never  seen  any  reason  to  think  that  the  wo- 
men know  anything  about  it,"  returned  Stephens. 


70  Lone  Pine 

"It  is  n't  likely  they  would."  The  idea  had  never 
even  occurred  to  him. 

"Ah,  and  I  '11  gamble  they  do, ' '  replied  Backus.  "  I 
know  a  thing  or  two  about  Indians  myself,  and  it  's  a 
great  trick  of  theirs  to  let  some  of  the  squaws — only 
some,  mind  you — keep  some  of  the  secrets  of  the  tribe. 
You  see  they  don't  go  and  get  killed  off  like  the  bucks, 
so  it  acts  as  a  kind  of  safeguard  against  losing  the 
knowledge  of  a  thing  entirely  that  way.  Aint  there 
some  extra  high-toned  women,  now,  in  the  Santiago 
tribe, — chief's  darters  and  the  like,  eh?"  His  keen 
black  eyes  were  turned  on  the  other  with  a  cunning 
inquisitiveness.  "  Yes,  by  the  way,  aint  there  a  white 
squaw  in  the  tribe  somewheres  ?  " 

Stephens  was  startled.  '  You  've  taken  a  lot  of 
trouble  to  find  out  things,  I  fancy,  Mr.  Backus,"  he 
said  rather  suspiciously  ;  "  a  great  deal  more,  indeed, 
than  you  seemed  inclined  to  let  on  at  first.  But  you  're 
quite  right.  Yes,  there  is  a  white  squaw  in  the  tribe, 
and  she  's  the  daughter  of  the  cacique." 

Backus  listened  with  extreme  interest.  ' '  You  reckon 
she  's  an  Indian,  then  ?  "  he  said.  '  You  don't  think 
she  's  a  white  girl  they  've  picked  up  and  adopted,  by 
any  chance  ?  I  've  seen  a  good  few  sorts  of  Indians, 
but  never  any  white  ones  yet." 

"  Oh  no,  she  's  Indian,  right  enough,"  said  Ste- 
phens ;  "  she  's  a  natural  Indian  blonde,  as  fair-com- 
plected as  I  am.  They  're  none  so  rare  among  these 
Pueblo  Indians.  There  's  twenty  or  thirty  of  them 
over  in  Zuni." 

"  I  wanter  know  !  "  exclaimed  the  Texan,  by  which 
phrase  he  indicated  extreme  surprise.  ;'  Wai',  she 
might  be  worth  trying.  The  cacique  had  ought  to 
know  the  secret  if  anybody  does,  and  she  'd  be  as  likely 


An  Old  Wound   Reopened  71 

as  any  of  the  squaws  to  be  let  into  it.  Why  should  n't 
you  tackle  her  ?  Is  she  married  ? ' ' 

"  No,  she  's  not  married  yet,"  replied  the  other. 

"  Wai',  there  's  yer  chance,"  said  the  storekeeper, 
with  a  knowing  grin  ;  "  but  I  forgot,  you  draw  the 
line  pretty  close  in  the  matter  of  colour  ;  or  mebbe,  she 
being  light-complected  as  yourself,  you  'd  reckon  she 
was  white  enough  to  suit  you." 

Stephens  flushed  ;  he  had  given  this  man  no  right 
to  intrude  these  familiarities  upon  him  ;  in  silence  he 
picked  up  his  parcels  to  go.  When  you  have  just  been 
forgiven  by  a  man  for  shooting  him-  through  the  lungs, 
you  can  hardly  blaze  out  at  him  for  being  a  trifle  too 
personal  in  his  conversation. 

"  Wai',  I  'm  going  to  be  up  there  right  along,"  con- 
tinued the  storekeeper,  seeing  that  Stephens  volun- 
teered no  further  comment,  and  was  preparing  to  start, 
"  and  then  you  can  introduce  me.  I  'm  going  to  make 
a  bid  for  the  trade  of  the  pueblo  anyhow,  and  I  '11  have 
to  get  on  the  right  side  of  the  cacique  for  that,  and  I 
might  as  well  get  the  inside  track  with  the  girl,  too. 
It  's  all  in  the  family,  eh  ?  "  He  grinned  again  with 
a  kind  of  a  grin  that  Stephens  loathed.  "  And  't  won't 
be  trespassing  on  your  property  neither,  I  s'pose  ?  " 

"  I  leave  the  Indian  women  alone,  Mr.  Backus,  as  I 
think  I  told  you  before,"  said  Stephens  haughtily,  and 
he  drew  himself  up  and  moved  to  the  door. 

"  Oh,  no  offence,"  cried  the  other  quickly,  following 
him  ;  "  I  see  you  're  high-toned,  of  course.  I  did  n't 
mean  nothing  low-down,  nohow"  ;  he  attended  the 
prospector  out  to  the  hitching-post,  where  the  mule 
was  fastened,  and  watched  him  as  he  put  the  parcels 
into  his  saddle-bags. 

"  That  's  a  real  nice  California  saddle  of  yourn," 


72  Lone  Pine 

he  said  in  a  propitiatory  tone,  "  and  an  Ai  mule  wear- 
ing it.  Wai',  when  are  you  going  to  ask  me  to  come 
and  meet  Miss  Pocahontas  ?  " 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  'm  off  to  the  sierra  to-morrow  on  a 
hunt, ' '  was  the  somewhat  ungracious  reply,  ' '  but  we 
may  meet  again  later  on  when  I  come  back,  before  I 
start  for  Colorado,  if  I  decide  after  all  to  go  there  "  ; 
and  he  swung  himself  into  his  saddle  and  raised  his 
bridle  rein. 

"  What  makes  ye  so  sot  on  leavin'  this  Territory  ?  " 
queried  Backus,  laying  his  hand  on  the  mule's  neck 
and  walking  a  few  paces  alongside  the  parting  guest. 
"  Aint  it  most  time  for  ye  to  quit  all  this  rovin'  round, 
and  settle  down  ?  Why  don't  you  ask  Don  Nepomu- 
ceno,  now,  for  his  darter  ?  She 's  gone  on  you  already, 
if  you  only  knowed  it.  When  you  was  fingering  your 
revolver  there  in  the  store  just  now — oh,  I  seen  what 
your  little  game  was,  right  enough — her  eyes  was  just 
glued  to  you.  Oh  yes;  if  I  was  watching  you  close, 
right  along  the  hull  time,  you  bet  I  kept  my  little  eye 
open  for  what  the  women  thought  of  it  all  as  well. 
You  bet  I  aint  no  innercent ;  I  aint  bin  and  lived  here 
these  seven  years  in  New  Mexico  without  learning  to 
watch  the  women  every  time.  I  'm  on  the  spot  there, 
and  no  mistake.  I  know  how  a  girl  looks  when  she 
thinks  as  how  her  man  's  in  danger  that  she  's  gone 
on.  You  ask  her  father  for  her,  and  you  '11  find 
you  've  got  the  inside  track  there,  or  my  name  aint 
Tom  Backus." 

"  Really,  Mr.  Backus,"  replied  Stephens,  "  you  've 
set  yourself  to  discuss  a  matter  I  prefer  not  to  talk 
about.  I  think  I  '11  say  good  morning  now." 

With  a  regretful  air  Mr.  Backus  removed  his  hand 
from  the  mule's  neck,  and  remained  there  still  looking 


An  Old  Wound  Reopened  73 

at  Stephens' s  back,  while  the  animal  he  bestrode,  feel- 
ing its  rider's  spurs,  quickened  its  pace. 

' '  Wai' ,  so  long, ' '  he  cried  after  him  as  the  distance 
between  them  rapidly  increased.  ' '  You '  d  better  think 
over  that  idea  of  mine.  Take  care  of  yerself  now. 
Good  men  is  scarce  " — "  and  prospectors  who  know 
a  mine  when  they  see  it  are  scarcer,  just  now,  in  this 
part  of  the  world,"  he  continued  to  himself.  "  I  've 
no  fancy  to  have  you  putting  out  for  Colorado  till 
you  've  done  my  bit  of  work  for  me  down  here,  Mister 
Stephens.  If  I  can  once  get  you  to  fooling  with  that 
squaw  girl,  I  '11  bet  a  dollar  you  can  get  the  secret  of 
the  Indians'  silver  mine  out  of  her;  and  if  she  ain't 
enough  to  keep  you  here  you  may  sport  around  after 
Miss  Manuelita,  but  stop  here  you  must  till  you  've 
found  that  mine  for  me.  You  find  it  and  I  take  the 
profits,  that  's  fair  division,"  and  he  gave  a  chuckle 
of  satisfaction  ;  "  and  when  the  time  comes  for  paying 
you  your  share,  you  '11  find  I  haint  forgotten  how  to 
shoot.  lyord  !  what  luck  to  drop  on  you  like  this,  and 
you  as  innercent  as  a  new-born  babby,  for  all  your 
fingering  your  six-shooter  the  way  you  did.  I  reckon 
you  '11  just  play  the  cards  as  I  deal  'em,  and  never  spot 
me  a- raising  a  cold  deck  on  you,  as  I  will. ' ' 


CHAPTER  VII 

DESDEMONA   LISTENS 

IT  was  but  slowly  that  Manuelita  obeyed  her  father's 
order  to  return  home  ;  her  little  feet  lagged  as  the 
girl  dwelt  on  the  scene  she  had  just  witnessed,  and 
wondered  what  it  meant.  Somehow  this  American 
always  set  her  wondering  about  something.  His  very 
unlikeness  to  the  men  whom  she  had  hitherto  lived 
among  made  him  appear  almost  as  strange  to  her  as  a 
visitor  from  another  world.  He  had  begun  by  half  re- 
pelling, and  had  ended  by  fascinating  her  ;  on  this 
point  the  guess  of  the  coarse-minded  but  quick-witted 
Texan  was  not  mistaken.  Although  in  speech  and 
manners,  in  all  his  tastes  and  habits,  Stephens  offered 
a  complete  contrast  to  her  Mexican  fellow-countrymen, 
he  himself  with  his  light  hair  and  fair  complexion  was 
not  a  type  absolutely  new  to  this  girl,  for  in  the  place 
of  honour  in  her  grandfather's  dining-room  had  hung 
a  portrait  of  a  golden-haired  caballero,  the  great  Manuel 
Sanchez,  the  friend  of  Cortez  ;  and  Manuelita  had 
woven  so  many  romantic  dreams  about  her  glorious 
ancestor  that  this  fair-haired  American  had  come  to 
seem  to  her  a  sort  of  copy  of  her  hero  of  romance.  It 
was  only  in  dreams  and  traditions  that  the  girl  had 
met  with  heroes  ;  the  secluded  life  led  by  Mexican 
ladies  was  in  her  case  more  solitary  than  usual,  for  the 
Sanchez  family  was  poor  (poor  for  its  position,  that  is) 

74 


Desdemona  Listens  75 

but  proud,  and  Manuelita  turned  up  her  pretty  nose  at 
the  few  young  rancheros  of  the  neighbourhood,  and 
held  them  beneath  the  notice  of  the  daughter  of  ^con- 
quistador. The  girl's  passionate  southern  nature,  with 
all  its  capacity  for  devotion,  had  slept  longer  than  was 
usual  among  her  people,  and  when  her  heart  should 
awake  it  would  be  the  heart  of  a  woman,  not  of  a 
schoolgirl.  The  young  rancheros  flaunted  their  silver 
spurs  and  velvet  jackets  at  the  Fiestas  in  vain  ;  they 
swore  the  senorita  was  as  wild  as  an  antelope  ;  and, 
like  an  antelope,  she  was  caught  by  her  curiosity. 
She  could  not  keep  from  speculating  on  the  strange 
character  of  this  American  who  bore  the  golden  locks 
of  her  great  ancestor.  The  character  of  a  handsome 
young  man  is  a  dangerous  study  for  the  peace  of  mind 
of  a  girl,  and  her  interest  in  the  stranger  grew  so 
rapidly  that  soon  it  seemed  to  her  that  there  was  little 
else  worth  studying  "  beneath  the  visiting  moon." 

Nor  was  the  opportunity  lacking.  Stephens  had 
struck  up  quite  a  friendship  with  her  father  in  the 
course  of  the  winter,  and  had  got  into  the  way,  espe- 
cially on  mail  days,  of  dropping  in  for  a  chat  with  his 
Mexican  crony,  who,  within  his  somewhat  narrow  in- 
tellectual limits,  was  a  man  both  of  strong  character 
and  active  mind.  She  had  listened  to  them  talking  to- 
gether by  the  hour.  The  Mexican  had  many  incidents 
to  tell  of  the  ceaseless  struggles  of  his  people  with  the 
marauding  Navajo  Indians,  who  had  been  but  lately 
reduced  to  subjection,  and  of  the  hardly  less  constant 
struggle  between  the  rival  great  families,  the  Bacas, 
the  Armijos,  the  Chavez,  and  the  rest,  for  supremacy 
among  themselves.  The  American  found  no  lack  of 
matter  in  the  tale  of  his  wanderings  between  the  Sierra 
Nevada  and  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  of  the  toils  and 


76  Lone  Pine 

hopes  of  a  seeker  after  gold.  To  her,  directly,  he  had 
not  spoken  very  much  ;  as  an  unmarried  girl,  under 
the  watchful  tutelage  of  her  aunt,  she  was  not  expected 
to  take  a  prominent  part  in  conversation,  but  she  went 
and  came  freely  between  the  living-room  where  her 
father  entertained  his  guest,  and  the  sleeping-chambers 
which  opened  off  it  and  the  kitchen  communicating 
with  it  on  the  other  side. 

Once,  too,  it  had  been  her  luck  to  see  the  American 
perform  a  feat  that  impressed  her  not  a  little.  She  had 
gone  out  one  evening  with  Juana,  the  Navajo  captive 
who  had  been  brought  up  in  the  house  as  a  bond- 
servant, to  bring  in  the  milk  from  the  corral,  when  she 
caught  sight  in  the  dusk  of  an  animal  prowling  near 
that  seemed  like  a  dog,  and  yet  was  assuredly  some- 
thing other  than  a  dog.  The  two  girls  ran  indoors, 
crying  out  that  there  was  a  wild  beast  of  some  kind,  a 
wolf  they  thought,  close  by,  and  Stephens,  who  was 
sitting  with  her  father,  sprang  up,  seized  his  Win- 
chester, which  stood  in  the  corner,  and  hastily  threw  a 
cartridge  into  it  as  he  stepped  forth,  while  she  followed 
to  point  out  the  marauder.  There,  in  the  dim  light, 
some  seventy  yards  away,  the  animal  stood,  hesitating 
whether  to  advance  or  to  fly.  She  well  remembered 
the  quick,  smooth,  steady  action  with  which  the  rifle 
came  up,  came  level,  went  off ;  the  loud  clap  of  the 
bullet  hitting  the  object  ;  and  the  nonchalant  way  in 
which  the  tall  American  had  turned  on  his  heel  and, 
without  any  apparent  interest  in  the  effect  of  his  shot, 
had  gone  in  and  replaced  the  rifle  in  its  corner,  merely 
remarking,  "  I  reckon  it  's  nothing  but  a  coyote." 

Pedro,  the  peon,  had  run  to  see,  and  presently 
brought  in  the  limp  body  of  the  animal,  a  coyote  as  he 
had  guessed,  its  skull  shattered  to  a  pulp  by  the  deadly 


Desdemona  Listens  77 

hollow  bullet.  But  what  impressed  her  more  than  the 
death-dealing  powers  of  the  terrible  weapon,  was  the 
quiet  confidence  exhibited  by  the  marksman  in  his  rapid 
aim,  a  confidence  so  entirely  justified  by  the  event;  and 
it  was  this  that  struck  deep  into  her  imagination. 

Yes,  in  her  eyes,  without  doubt,  the  American  was  a 
hero  ;  and  yet  he  was  but  a  cold-hearted  hero  after  all. 
He  could  turn  a  compliment  because  he  had  picked  up 
the  trick  of  it  from  the  young  Mexicans  whom  he  met 
occasionally  in  Don  Nepomuceno's  house,  but  his  com- 
pliments lacked  the  fanciful  gallantry  of  the  words  of 
her  countrymen  ;  yes,  he  was  hard,  she  was  sure  of  it, 
hard  and  cold  as  the  ice-bound  soil  of  his  own  frozen 
North ;  she  would  waste  no  more  thoughts  on  him,  she 
resolved  ;  and  then  she  thought  of  him  more  than  ever, 
and  it  was  in  such  a  mood  as  this  that  she  re-entered 
her  father's  door. 

When  Stephens  turned  his  back  somewhat  ungra- 
ciously on  Mr.  Backus  in  front  of  the  stage  station,  he 
rode  off  without  casting  a  look  behind  him,  and  urged 
his  mule  forward  at  an  easy  amble  towards  the  house 
where  he  was  expected.  Those  last  words  of  the  store- 
keeper had  jarred  on  him  very  unpleasantly.  Who 
had  asked  this  intruder  to  spy  on  the  expression  of  the 
girl's  face  ?  What  business  was  it  of  his  anyhow  ?  Of 
course  it  was  all  rubbish.  He  himself  had  never  said 
a  single  word  to  Manuelita  that  all  the  world  might 
not  hear.  Of  course  he  had  to  pay  her  a  compliment 
once  in  a  while  ;  he  could  hardly  do  less,  coming  and 
going  at  the  house  as  he  did,  and  all  these  Mexican 
senoras  and  senoritas  expected  it,  just  as  the  girls  back 
in  Ohio  expected  you  to  treat  them  to  candy  and  ice- 
cream. That  never  meant  anything  particular,  neither 


78  Lone  Pine 

did  his  compliments,  and  she  was  much  too  sensible  a 
girl  to  think  they  did.  It  was  characteristic  of  the 
man  that  he  never  for  a  moment  thought  of  himself  as 
likely  by  his  person  and  his  character  to  make  an  im- 
pression on  a  girl's  heart.  The  idea  that  came  into 
his  head  when  Backus  made  the  suggestion  was  that 
if  there  was  anything  in  it  it  must  be  due  to  this  pre- 
cious art  of  paying  compliments,  which  was  about  the 
only  point  in  Mexican  manners  that  he  had  taken  any 
special  pains  to  acquire.  But  the  whole  thing  was 
rubbish,  so  he  assured  himself  again  and  again.  San- 
chez was  no  fool,  and  no  more  was  his  daughter.  They 
were  kindly  people,  who  had  behaved  with  true  Mexi- 
can hospitality  to  a  stranger — but  they  were  people  of 
another  race  :  their  customs,  their  beliefs,  their  ideals, 
were  all  strange  to  him.  Between  an  American  and  a 
Mexican  there  could  be  no  real  community  of  feeling. 
And  yet  some  Americans  did  marry  Mexicans,  and  did 
not  seem  to  repent  it.  Even  that  low-down  skunk  of 
a  storekeeper,  who  was  an  American  of  sorts,  had  a 
Mexican  wife.  Probably  she  was  not  much  to  boast 
of,  a  mere  peon's  daughter  most  likely, — well,  that  was 
his  taste.  But  there  were  other  Americans  who  had 
Mexican  wives  ;  he  could  count  up  several  whom  he 
had  seen  in  Santa  F6, — traders,  Government  employe's, 
and  the  like, — and  they  had  as  comfortable  homes  as  if 
they  had  gone  back  to  the  States  and  married  American 
girls.  But  confound  that  Backus' s  impudence  !  What 
should  he  know  about  these  Sanchez  folks  anyway  ? 

Beneath  all  this  anger  lay  two  very  uncomfortable 
suspicious.  One  was  that  the  storekeeper  was  a  man 
with  a  great  deal  of  low  cunning,  and  might  have,  as 
indeed  he  boasted,  most  confoundedly  sharp  eyes  for 
prying  into  other  people's  affairs  ;  and  the  other  was 


Desdemona  Listens  79 

that  he,  Stephens,  had  never  given  such  an  affair  as 
this  a  serious  thought  before,  and  knew  precious  little 
about  womankind  in  general  ;  and  this  last  thought  of 
his  was  much  truer  than  he  himself  realised. 

There  are  no  men  whose  experience  of  women,  as 
a  rule,  is  so  small  as  the  pioneers  of  a  new  country. 
In  older  countries  there  are  unmarried  men  in  plenty, 
but  they  are  brought  into  frequent  daily  contact  with 
the  other  sex  unless  they  take  deliberate  pains  to  pre- 
vent it,  and  not  seldom  they  prove  to  understand  wo- 
men better  than  those  who  might  be  supposed  to  have 
a  better  right.  But  the  celibates  of  a  new  country  are 
quite  different.  In  their  case  it  is  not  choice  but  neces- 
sity that  makes  the  mere  sight  of  a  woman's  face  a  rare 
thing.  In  the  wild,  remote  mining  camps  where  Ste- 
phens's  years  of  adventure  had  been  mostly  passed, 
among  a  thousand  men  there  would  barely  be  a  score 
or  so  who  ever  brought  their  women-folks  along.  True 
enough,  where  the  miners  had  struck  it  rich,  and  hun- 
dreds and  thousands  of  dollars  were  being  taken  out 
by  eager  crowds  of  men,  another  class  of  women  did  not 
delay  long  in  appearing  upon  the  scene;  but  that  was  a 
class  from  which  Stephens  studiously  kept  aloof.  He 
had  not  even  the  perverted  experience  that  may  be 
thus  gained  ;  and  he  positively  knew  less  at  nine-and- 
twenty  about  the  ways  in  which  girls  think  and  feel 
than  he  had  known  before  he  left  home  at  nineteen. 
If  he  knew  little  he  had  been  contented  with  his  ignor- 
ance, but  now  this  random  shaft  of  the  storekeeper 
had  gone  home,  and  he  was  contented  no  longer. 

Alighting  from  Captain  Jinks  before  Don  Nepomu- 
ceno's  door,  he  was  welcomed  by  the  Mexican,  who 
insisted  on  unsaddling  the  mule  for  him  himself,  loudly 
calling  meanwhile  for  Pedro  to  come  and  take  him  round 


8o  Lone  Pine 

to  the  corral  and  give  him  some  corn.  The  house  was 
built  in  Mexican  style,  of  sun-dried  bricks,  in  the  form 
of  a  hollow  square,  with  a  patio,  or  courtyard,  in  the 
centre  on  which  all  the  doors  and  windows  gave,  the 
outer  wall  being  blank  except  for  a  peephole  or  two 
high  up.  It  had  a  flat  clay  roof,  with  a  low  parapet 
all  round.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  miniature  castle,  as  was 
every  house  in  the  country  of  any  pretensions  built 
during  the  days  when  the  Navajos  and  Apaches  were 
a  constant  terror  in  the  land.  Stephens  followed  his 
host  inside  after  taking  off  his  spurs,  Spanish  fashion. 
He  had  unbuckled  his  belt  and  handed  it,  revolver  and 
all,  to  his  host,  begging  him  to  take  charge  of  it.  This, 
too,  he  had  learned  was  a  piece  of  Spanish  etiquette. 
You  give  him  your  arms  to  keep,  for  you  are  under  his 
protection.  Don  Nepomuceno  bustled  around,  laying 
the  saddle  with  its  "  cantines  "  neatly  in  a  corner,  with 
the  saddle  blanket  over  it,  and  hanging  up  the  belt  on 
a  peg,  while  he  kept  calling  out  to  his  sister  to  bring 
in  the  dinner,  and  to  the  Navajo  captive,  Juaua,  to  bring 
water  for  washing.  There  were  no  chairs  or  tables, 
but  a  broad  divan  covered  with  gaily  striped  scrapes 
ran  all  along  one  side  of  the  room  and  served  as  a  seat. 
On  this  Stephens  sat  down,  and,  while  the  master  of 
the  house  showed  his  hospitable  ardour  by  urging  the 
women  in  the  kitchen  to  make  a  wholly  unnecessary 
haste,  the  American  drew  from  his  pocket  the  letter  he 
had  received  at  the  stage  station,  and  proceeded  to  read 
it.  It  ran  as  follows  : 

"THE  WHAT  CHEER  HOUSE,  DENVER,  Coi,., 

"April  2,  187-. 

"  To  Mr.  John  Stephens,  among  the  Pueblo  Indians  of  Santi- 
ago, N.  M. 
"  FRIEND  STEPHENS, — It 's  two  years  and  a  half  ago  that  you 


Desdemona  Listens  81 

and  me  parted  company  in  Helena,  Montana,  after  I  'd  done  my 
best  to  bust  you  that  time,  you  remember.  I  've  knocked 
around  and  had  my  ups  and  downs  since,  but  I  have  n't  done 
so  badly  on  the  whole.  Last  summer  I  was  in  Col.  here,  and  I 
got  on  to  a  goodish  thing  up  on  Boulder.  I  wish  you  would 
come  up  here  this  summer  and  join  me  in  trying  to  work  it,  for 
I  think  if  it  was  handled  right  there  's  big  money  in  it  for  both 
of  us.  I  don't  want  to  say  too  much,  for  I  don't  feel  plumb 
sure  of  this  letter  reaching  you.  And  for  the  same  reason  I 
don't  put  in  a  draft  for  what  I  owe  you  still,  but  I  've  got  it  here 
for  you  all  right  and  regular,  and  if  you  can't  come  you  've  only 
got  to  let  me  know  where  and  how  to  send  it,  and  it 's  yours. 
I  'm  well  enough  fixed  now  to  be  able  to  do  it  right  enough.  I 
don't  know  if  there  'a  any  chance  of  this  letter  finding  you.  I 
have  n't  heard  sign  or  sound  of  you  since  we  quit  being  pard- 
ners,  till  yesterday  I  run  on  to  that  Sam  Argles  as  you  may  re- 
member in  Helena  in  old  times ;  he  'd  been  wintering  away 
down  in  Arizona,  and  he  said  as  how  when  he  was  passing 
through  New  Mexico  a  stage  driver  there  told  him  as  he  knowed 
of  a  white  man,  calling  himself  John  Stephens,  that  had  been  a 
miner,  and  was  living  now  with  the  Indians  of  Santiago,  N.  M. 
That  Sam  Argles  is  an  old  gasbag,  sure,  but  I  had  to  allow  as  it 
sounded  like  you  in  some  ways,  for  he  said  the  driver  said  this 
Stephens  would  n't  never  drink  nor  gamble ;  but  he  said  too 
another  thing,  that  he  was  living  there  with  'em  as  a  squaw- 
man,  and  then  I  didn't  hardly  believe  as  it  could  be  you,  but 
I  guessed  that  stage  driver  might  have  been  lying,  and  so  figur- 
ing on  it  like  that  I  calculated  I  might  as  well  write  you  there. 
Hoping  as  it  is  you,  and  that  you  're  going  strong  and  doing 
fine,  I  remain,  your  former  pard, 

"JEFF.  A.  ROCKYFEIXER. 

"  You  can  address  me,  care  of  Hepburn  &  Davis,  397  Arapa- 
hoe,  Denver." 

Stephens  perused  this  letter  with  a  dry  smile  upon 
his  face. 

"  Yes,  Rocky,"  he  said,  apostrophising  his  ex- 
partner,  "it  's  me,  sure  pop,  that  Mr.  Sam  Argles 
heard  of  here  ;  but  I  'm  not  a  squawman  yet,  not 


82  Lone  Pine 

quite  ;  you  were  right  hot  to  believe  that,  not  if  all  the 
darned  fool  stage  drivers  in  the  country  were  to  swear 
to  it." 

By  the  code  of  the  West,  a  squawman  is  nothing  less 
than  a  renegade  to  his  own  race,  and  is  hated  accord- 
ingly. 

He  refolded  the  letter  and  placed  it  back  in  his 
pocket,  as  Juana  appeared  bearing  a  towel  and  soap 
and  a  bowl,  which  she  placed  on  the  clean-swept  floor 
in  front  of  him  preparatory  to  aiding  him  to  wash  by 
pouring  a  little  stream  of  water  over  his  hands.  The 
Navajo  handmaiden,  having  been  captured  as  a  child, 
had  been  brought  up  in  Mexican  style,  but  her  blood 
was  pure  Indian;  that  showed  plainly  in  her  impassive 
face  as  she  held  the  towel  for  him  to  wipe  his  hands, 
and  the  strong  animal  expression  given  by  the  heavy 
jaw  and  dark  skin  struck  him  forcibly.  He  wondered 
what  she  was  thinking  of  as  she  stood  there  as  still  as 
if  she  had  been  cast  in  bronze,  and  he  reflected,  with 
some  disgust  at  his  own  stupidity,  that  that  'cute  store- 
keeper down  below  could  probably  have  made  a  pretty 
accurate  guess.  Yes,  in  future  he  positively  would 
pay  more  attention  to  what  women  were  thinking 
about.  In  that  respect  there  was  no  doubt  he  must 
amend  his  ways. 

At  last  Don  Nepomuceno  condescended  to  settle 
down  and  seat  himself  on  the  divan  beside  his  guest  ; 
a  low  table  was  brought  in  and  placed  before  them, 
and  on  it  were  set  two  bowls  of  rich  mutton-broth. 
When  the  empty  bowls  were  removed  by  Juana,  the 
master  of  the  house  called  out  loudly,  so  as  to  be  heard 
in  the  kitchen  through  the  open  door,  "  It  is  very  ex- 
cellent broth  !  Ah,  what  capital  broth  !  " 

"  I  have  often  heard  it  said,"  remarked  Stephens, 


Desdemona  Listens  83 

by  way  of  showing  his  appreciation,  ' '  that  the  Mexican 
ladies  make  the  best  soup  in  the  world." 

"  It  is  true,  Don  Estevan,  it  is  quite  true.  They  are 
capital  cooks,  capital.  I  wonder  now,  Don  Estevan, 
that  you  can  be  contented  to  cook  for  yourself.  Cook- 
ing seems  such  a  waste  of  time  for  a  man  !  " 

Stephens  laughed.  "  It  's  my  bad  luck,  senor,"  he 
said.  "  You  see,  the  ladies  would  n't  ever  look  at  a 
rover  like  myself. ' ' 

"  Don't  you  believe  it,  don't  you  believe  it,"  cried 
the  other  ;  "  indeed  you  have  no  call  to  say  so.  Ah, 
here  is  the  stew,"  he  added,  as  Juana  set  down  before 
each  of  them  two  small  saucers,  one  of  frijoles,  or  Mexi- 
can beans  boiled  with  onions,  and  one  of  stewed  mutton 
with  red  pepper  ;  in  fact  both  dishes  were  made  nearly 
red-hot  by  a  liberal  admixture  of  the  famous  chili 
Colorado.  For  bread  she  laid  before  them  tortillas, 
large  thin  pancakes  of  the  blue  Indian  corn,  peculiar  to 
New  Mexico. 

Following  the  example  of  his  host,  Stephens  broke 
off  a  piece  of  tortilla,  formed  it  into  a  scoop,  and  dip- 
ping up  mouthfuls  of  the  two  messes  alternately,  thus 
consumed  both  bread  and  meat  together.  His  host's 
approval  of  this  course  was  delivered  for  the  benefit  of 
the  kitchen  as  emphatically  as  it  had  been  of  the  soup. 

"It  is  very  savoury  meat,"  he  shouted  in  his  com- 
manding voice,  as  soon  as  he  had  tasted  two  or  three 
mouthfuls  from  each  saucer,  "  very  savoury;  and  they 
are  excellent  beans,  delicious  beans.  Ah  yes,  Don 
Estevan,"  he  continued  to  his  guest,  "  what  a  pity  it 
is  that  you  have  not  someone  to  cook  for  you  like  this. 
To  live  all  by  yourself  is  so  solitary,  so  triste" 

'  Yes,"  answered  the  American  quietly;  "  but  how 
should  I  do  when  I  went  off  to  the  mountains  prospect- 


84  Lone  Pine 

ing  ?    I  'm  off  again,  I  expect,  shortly,  to  Colorado,  you 
see  ;  and  what  would  I  do  with  the  cook  then  ?  " 

"  But  why  do  you  go  ?  "  queried  his  host.  "Is  it 
not  time  for  you  to  leave  off  this  wandering,  roving 
life  of  yours  and  settle  down  ?  You  are  rich,  every- 
body knows.  You  should  marry,  man,  marry,  and 
enjoy  yourself"  ;  he  dropped  into  a  more  familiar 
tone, — "  yes,  marry  before  old  age  comes.  You  are  a 
young  man  still,  but  age  will  be  upon  you  before  you 
know  it." 

Stephens,  instead  of  giving  a  direct  answer,  made 
play  with  the  tortilla  and  the  stew.  "  I  do  begin  to 
believe  that  cunning  Backus  was  nearer  right  than  I 
had  any  idea  of,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  I  suppose  this 
means  that  my  good  friend  here  wants  to  suggest  that 
he  '11  find  me  a  wife  in  short  order  if  I  say  so — only,  as 
it  happens,  he  's  a  little  too  previous  ;  I  aint  ready 
just  yet."  By  this  time  he  had  consumed  sufficient  of 
the  stew  to  set  a  dry  man  on  fire,  and  utilised  this  fact 
to  change  the  subject. 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  he,  "  but  may  I,  by  your  per- 
mission, beg  for  a  drink  of  water  ?  This  meat  is  de- 
licious, but  the  chili  makes  me  rather  thirsty." 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  cried  his  hospitable  host  ;  "  but 
we  have  coffee  coming.  We  have  coffee  here.  Bring 
the  coffee,  Juana,  at  once,"  he  shouted  to  the  bond- 
maid. 

"  Water,  please,  if  I  may  be  so  bold,  Don  Nepomu- 
ceno,"  pleaded  Stephens,  whose  mouth  was  really 
burning. 

'Yes,  yes;  bring  water,  then,  Juana,"  cried  the 
other,  anxious  to  accommodate  his  guest.  "  Or  would 
you  not  like  a  little  atole  ?  There  is  atole,  too,  plenty 
of  it." 


Desdemona  Listens  85 

Atole  is  an  old  and  favourite  Mexican  drink  made 
of  the  finest  Indian  corn  meal  boiled  till  it  becomes  a 
thin  gruel. 

A  jug  of  atole  presently  appeared  with  two  cups,  and 
the  American  was  permitted  to  ease  the  burning  sensa- 
tions of  his  palate. 

' '  Thank  you, ' '  he  said  gratefully,  putting  down  the 
cup  ;  "  that  's  very  refreshing.  Atole  is  a  real  good 
drink,  Don  Nepomuceno." 

"  Oh,  yes, "  said  the  latter,  "it  's  a  good  drink 
enough  ;  but  "QW  that  coffee  has  come  in  so  much,  it 
is  used  more  by  our  handmaidens  .and  the  peons.  All 
the  well-to-do  people  here  buy  coffee,  with  sugar,  now. 
We  will  have  the  coffee  in  in  a  minute.  Tell  them  to 
make  haste  with  the  coffee,  Juana.  Did  you  never 
hear,"  he  continued  to  Stephens,  "  the  song  that  the 
musician  of  San  Remo  has  made  about  Mr.  Coffee  and 
Mr.  Atole  ?  It  is  comic,  you  must  know,  very  comic. 
You  see  Mr.  Coffee  comes  from  far,  far  away  off  in 
Tamaulipas,  or  farther  still,  to  cut  out  his  rival  Mr. 
Atole.  And  then  they  meet,  and  the  pair  have  a  con- 
versation, and  Mr.  Coffee  tells  poor  Mr.  Atole  that  he 
is  doomed.  I,et  me  see,  how  does  it  go  ?  Oh  yes,  Mr. 
Coffee  begins,  and  he  says  to  the  other  jokingly  : 

"  '  Como  te  va,  amigo  Atole  ? 
Como  has  pasado  tu  tiempo  ; 
Desde  lejos  he  venido 
Para  hacer  tu  testatnento.' 

"  '  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Gruel? 
I  fear  you  are  rather  unwell  ; 
I  've  taken  a  mighty  long  journey 
To  ring  your  funeral  knell.' 

That  's  how  it  goes,  Don  Estevan.     There  's  a  great 


86  Lone  Pine 

deal  more  of  it  ;  they  go  on  arguing  ever  so  long.  We 
must  get  him  in  some  time  and  make  him  repeat  it  all 
for  you. ' ' 

"  You  're  most  kind,  I  'in  sure,"  said  the  American, 
wondering  in  himself  the  while  how  any  human  being 
could  be  amused  by  such  a  rigmarole  concerning 
Messrs.  Coffee  and  Atole.  But  there  was  no  account- 
ing for  tastes  ;  and  he  had  found  out  that  American 
humour  did  not  seem  at  all  funny  to  Mexican  ears, 
while"  his  recent  experience  in  blasting  the  ditch  had 
taught  him  that  the  mildest  of  American  jokes  might 
send  red  Indians  on  the  war-path.  A  difference  in  the 
sense  of  humour  goes  down  to  the  very  roots  of  our 
nature. 

They  had  finished  dinner  by  this  time,  and  the 
American,  declining  a  cigarette,  filled  his  pipe,  and 
rising  went  over  to  his  saddle  and  extracted  from  the 
"cantines"  the  packet  which  had  come  for  him  by 
mail.  He  brought  this  over  to  his  host  and  offered  it 
to  him. 

"  Here,  sefior,"  said  he,  "  is  a  little  bag  I  will  beg 
you  to  accept.  It  is  from  Denver  ;  it  contains  some 
seed  of  alfalfa,  that  clover  I  told  you  about,  that 
grows  so  splendidly  in  California  and  Colorado." 

The  Mexican  was  warm  in  his  thanks  as  he  untied 
the  bag  and  took  a  sample  in  his  hand. 

"  I  told  them  to  send  me  the  best  seed,"  said  Ste- 
phens. "  I  think  it  ought  to  grow  well  in  this  country. 
You  'd  better  sow  it  soon  in  a  piece  of  your  ploughed 
land,  and  irrigate  it  when  it  comes  up." 

"Yes,  I  will,"  said  the  Mexican.  "  I  '11  have  it 
planted  to-morrow  in  the  land  I  am  preparing  for  corn. 
Come  and  see  my  seed  corn  ;  I  am  not  content  with 
this  common  blue  corn  of  the  Indians.  I  have  white 


Desdemona  Listens  87 

corn  with  big  ears  that  I  mean  to  sow.     Come  along 
to  the  storeroom  and  look  at  it. ' ' 

He  led  the  way,  and  as  they  passed  through  the 
door  they  almost  stepped  over  Manuelita,  who  was 
seated  on  the  ground  just  outside,  busy  cleaning  a  large 
basket  of  frijoles.  Stephens  paused  idly  to  look  at 
what  she  was  doing,  while  her  father  bustled  around, 
noisily  demanding  of  his  sister  where  the  key  of  the 
storeroom  was.  The  girl's  task  struck  him  as  terribly 
tedious.  She  took  up  a  small  handful  of  beans  at  a 
time  and  picked  out  one  by  one  the  little  bits  of  stone 
that  had  got  in  when  the  threshing  was  done,  in  the 
good  old  style,  by  the  feet  of  the  wild  mares  on  a  floor 
of  clay  and  gravel  concrete. 

"  That  's  a  long  business  you  're  in  there,"  he  re- 
marked sympathetically. 

"  Yes,"  she  anwered,  glancing  up  at  him  with  a  shy 
smile,  "  it  takes  time,"  and  she  bent  her  eyes  on  her 
hand  again  so  as  not  to  interrupt  her  work.  He  caught 
the  beautiful  smooth  outline  of  her  cheek  with  the  long 
dark  lashes  showing  distinct  against  it. 

'  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  have  to  do  the  lot  that 
way,  picking  out  all  those  bits  of  rock  one  at  a  time  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Oh,  but  yes,  of  course,"  she  answered.  "  You 
would  break  your  teeth  if  we  did  not  take  them  out 
before  we  cook  them." 

"  But,"  he  rejoined,  his  practical  mind  revolting 
against  waste  of  labour,  "  it  '11  take  you  a  good  hour 
to  do  that  lot  the  way  you  're  doing  it,  and  you  could 
do  it  better  in  three  minutes."  His  tone  was  oracular. 

"  I  don't  think  it 's  possible,"  she  said,  "  unless  you 
had  a  witch  to  do  it.  There  is  an  old  woman,  the 
mother  of  Pedro,  that  we  get  sometimes,  but  she  often 


88  Lone  Pine 

leaves  some  in,  and  then  my  father  hurts  his  teeth. 
The  people  here  call  her  a  witch,  but  she  would  take 
three  hours  instead  of  three  minutes." 

"  Well,  I  'm  no  witch,"  said  he,  "  though  the  Indians 
here  wanted  to  play  me  for  one  this  morning.  But  you 
give  me  a  pan — a  milk-pan  '11  do — and  I  '11  show  you." 

The  pan  was  brought,  and  he  put  in  the  beans  and 
poured  in  water  enough  to  set  them  a-swim.  He  gave 
the  pan  a  few  deft  twirls  and  shook  it  from  side  to  side. 

"  This  is  the  way  we  wash  gravel  to  get  the  gold, 
senorita,"  he  said,  as  he  set  it  down.  "  The  rocks  are 
all  at  the  bottom  of  that  pan  now,  you  bet.  If  you  '11 
kindly  give  me  another  pan  to  put  the  beans  into, ' '  he 
went  on,  "I  '11  prove  it  to  you." 

The  girl  hastened  to  bring  a  second  pan  and  put  it 
beside  the  first,  and  in  doing  so  their  hands  touched. 

"  You  'd  better  hold  it  there,"  said  he,  "  while  I 
shovel  them  across,"  and  with  his  hollowed  palms  he 
scooped  the  beans  from  one  to  the  other.  In  the  pan 
he  had  shaken  there  now  remained  a  little  discoloured 
water,  and  at  the  bottom  about  a  teacupful  of  gravel. 

"  There  you  are,"  said  he  triumphantly  ;  "  here  's 
your  gravel  in  this  one,  and  there  's  your  frijoles  in 
that  one.  It  's  as  easy  as  rolling  off  a  log."  She 
looked  agreeably  surprised,  and  he  laughed. 

"  How  would  you  look,"  said  he,  "  if  those  little 
rocks  were  nuggets,  eh  ?  Coarse  gold,  heavy  gold, 
eh  ?  "  He  smiled  a  strange  smile,  and  a  strange  light 
shone  in  his  eyes.  "  Many  a  thousand  pounds  of 
gravel  I  've  washed,  looking  for  gold  in  the  bottom  of 
every  one  ;  but  this  is  the  first  time  I  ever  panned  out 
beans  to  get  gravel.  Maybe  some  day  I  '11  find  that 
heavy  gold  yet,  but  God  knows  where." 

He  straightened  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  leaving 


Desdemona  Listens  89 

on  the  ground  the  pan  over  which  he  had  been  stoop- 
ing. His  eyes  ranged  out  across  the  courtyard  through 
the  open  gateway  to  distant  pine-clad  peaks  standing 
out  against  the  intense  blue  of  the  sky. 

Manuelita  had  likewise  set  down  her  pan,  and  was 
leaning  her  hand  against  the  side  of  the  doorway  and 
her  head  against  her  hand. 

"  I  hope  you  will  find  it,"  she  said,  with  a  glance 
from  the  depths  of  her  liquid  eyes.  His  eyes  met  hers 
and  dwelt  there  for  a  moment. 

"Thanks,"  he  said;  "your  good  wishes  should 
bring  good  luck." 

' '  I  wish  they  might ' ' ;  she  half  sighed  as  she  spoke  ; 
"  but  which  of  us  can  ever  tell  where  good  fortune 
comes  from  ?  ' ' 

And  then  broke  in  the  voice  of  Don  Nepomuceno, 
"  Come  along  and  see  the  seed  corn,  Don  Estevan.  I 
have  found  the  key." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

CHILDREN   OF  THE  SUN 

THEY  looked  at  the  seed  corn,  and  the  American 
complimented  Don  Nepomuceno  on  his  enterprise 
as  an  improving  farmer. 

"Why  don't  you  take  to  the  business  yourself?" 
said  the  Mexican,  as  he  relocked  the  door  behind 
them.  "  You  have  money  and  you  have  a  pair  of  good 
mules.  You  could  buy  land  and  work-oxen  and  hire 
peons.  You  would  make  your  living  at  it  easier  than  at 
the  mining.  How  long  have  you  been  a  miner  ?  " 

"  Ten  years,  on  and  off,"  answered  the  other.  "  It 
is  a  good  slice  out  of  one's  life,  I  admit  "  ;  there  was  a 
certain  wistfulness  in  his  tone.  He  was  beginning  to 
think  that  perhaps  he  had  missed  a  good  deal  of  happi- 
ness in  his  time. 

"  Ten  years  of  wandering  !  "  exclaimed  the  Mexican. 
1 '  Ay  de  mi,  but  you  must  be  tired.  Why  should  you 
want  to  go  back  to  Colorado  and  begin  it  all  over 
again  ? ' ' 

"  Well,  for  one  thing,"  answered  the  other,  "I  've 
just  heard  from  an  old  pard  of  mine  up  there,  and  I 
think  from  the  way  he  talks  he  's  got  hold  of  a  good 
thing.  I  'm  going  to  see." 

"  And  you  '11  go  all  that  journey  just  to  see  !  "  said 
the  other.  "  You  trust  him  ?  You  think  he  's  a  good 
man?" 

90 


Children  of  the  Sun  91 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  so  much  about  that,"  admitted 
Stephens.  "  Truth  to  tell,  the  last  time  I  saw  him  we 
had  considerable  of  a  difference  of  opinion  ;  in  fact  we 
split,  and  we  reckoned  to  stay  split.  You  see,  he 
busted  me  up  as  we  call  it,  ruined  me,  that  is  ;  only  I 
had  the  luck  to  sort  of  pull  myself  round.  But  that 
happened  two  years  ago  ;  all  the  same  I  don't  say  that 
I  want  him  for  a  pard  again,  though  he  must  have 
pretty  well  straightened  himself  out,  the  way  he  talks  ; 
but  still,  you  bet,  I  'd  like  mighty  well  to  shake  hands 
with  him,  right  now." 

"  And  he  ruined  you  ?  "  exclaimed  the  Mexican. 

"  Busted  me  wide  open.  L,eft  me  flat  broke,"  said 
the  American. 

' '  How  did  it  all  happen  ? ' '  asked  the  other.  ' '  Tell 
us  all  about  it ;  we  have  heard  some  of  your  advent- 
ures, but  not  this.  Come  into  the  sitting-room  here 
and  let  us  have  it." 

"  Well,  if  it  won't  bore  you,  you  're  welcome,"  said 
Stephens,  following  his  host  and  preparing  to  refill  his 
pipe. 

"  Ah,  you  must  smoke  when  you  talk,  I  know,"  said 
Sanchez,  "  and  you  wish  to  smoke  your  own  American 
tobacco,  for  you  do  not  like  the  flavour  of  our  New 
Mexican  punche  in  your  pipe.  Ho,  a  light  here, 
Pedrito  !  quick,  bring  a  live  coal  for  the  senor." 

Pedrito,  a  small  son  of  the  peon,  came  running  from 
the  kitchen  with  a  live  coal  in  a  piece  of  hoop  iron, 
which  he  offered  to  Stephens,  pulling  off  his  cap  and 
standing  bareheaded  before  the  honoured  guest,  with 
old-world  courtesy.  Manuelita  knew  very  well  what 
was  up,  and  fixed  herself  down  to  listen  just  by  the 
door,  where  she  could  hear  every  word.  Stephens  set- 
tled himself  down  comfortably  on  the  divan,  and  began. 


92  Lone  Pine 

"  I  picked  up  with  this  partner,  who  has  just  writ- 
ten me  this  letter,  Rockyfeller  his  name  is,  when  I  was 
up  in  Idaho.  We  took  to  each  other  kind  of  natural- 
like,  and  he  and  I  pulled  together  as  amiably  as  a  span 
of  old  wheel-horses  for  a  goodish  bit.  We  were  quite 
different  sort  of  men,  too,  in  ourselves  ;  but  somehow 
that  seemed  to  make  it  all  the  easier  for  us  to  get  along. 
We  worked  in  the  mines  all  that  winter,  and  when 
spring  came  we  had  enough  saved  to  rig  out  a  real  Ai 
prospecting  outfit.  Rocky — that 's  what  I  called  him — 
used  to  spree  a  bit  every  once  in  a  while,  but  nothing 
really  to  hurt,  you  know.  He  could  pull  up  short, 
which  is  more  than  most  men  who  go  on  the  spree 
have  sense  to  do.  His  sprees  did  n't  prevent  our  sav- 
ing over  four  hundred  dollars.  Then  we  bought  two 
cay  uses  to  ride — cay  uses  is  the  name  they  give  to  those 
broncho  horses  up  that  way, — and  a  good  pack-mule 
and  plenty  of  grub  and  blankets.  We  put  in  the  whole 
of  that  summer  prospecting  off  in  the  Cceur  d'Alene 
country,  and  we  staked  out  a  lot  of  claims  on  different 
lodes,  and  we  put  in  a  good  bit  of  work  on  some  of 
'em  so  as  to  hold  'em  for  the  year.  Well,  come  fall, 
we  had  n't  been  able  to  sell  any  one  of  our  claims,  and 
we  had  n't  taken  out  any  high-grade  ore  that  would 
pay  for  packing  over  the  mountains  to  any  reduction 
works,  and  there  we  were,  short  of  cash.  So  we  cleared 
from  that  Cceur  d'Alene  country  at  last.  It  was  too 
far  from  a  railroad.  We  sold  our  claims  for  what  we 
could  get,  and  that  was  n't  much,  and  we  lit  out  for 
Montana,  and  there  that  next  summer  we  j  ust  did  ever- 
lastingly prospect  over  some  of  the  roughest  country  I 
ever  ran  across.  The  Indians  were  powerful  bad  too, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  road-agents.  But  we  struck  it  at 
last  pretty  rich  on  a  lode  that  we  called  '  The  Last 


Children  of  the  Sun  93 

L,ap  ' — that 's  the  last  round,  you  know,  that  the  horses 
make  on  a  race-track.  I  'd  spent  eight  mortal  years 
chasing  my  tail  all  round  the  Pacific  slope  looking  for 
a  good  lode,  and  here  it  was,  after  all,  across  on  the 
head-waters  of  the  Missouri  in  Montana.  We  knew 
we  'd  got  a  good  thing.  The  ledge  was  three  to  five 
feet  thick,  with  a  nice,  uniform  lot  of  high-grade  ore, 
and  a  special  streak  that  would  assay  up  to  five  hun- 
dred dollars  a  ton.  I  never  saw  a  nicer  lode.  The 
only  thing  was,  it  was  a  plaguy  long  way  from  any 
quartz  mill  for  the  free  ore,  and  it  was  a  plaguy  sight 
farther  to  the  only  reduction  works  that  could  handle  the 
richest  portions  of  it.  Of  course  what  the  mine  wanted 
was  a  smelter  of  its  own,  right  on  the  spot,  but  that  's 
what  got  us.  We  had  n't  the  capital  to  start  it.  It 
wanted  at  least  fifty  or  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  laid 
out  before  we  could  hope  to  get  back  a  cent.  That 
mine  was  worth  a  million,  if  we  'd  had  it  in  California, 
but  off  there,  five  or  six  hundred  miles  from  a  railroad, 
owned  by  us  two  prospectors  who  'd  just  about  got  to 
the  end  of  our  tether,  it  was  too  big  a  thing  for  us  to 
handle.  Well,  we  did  what  work  we  could  on  it.  We 
sunk  a  shaft  and  ran  a  bit  of  a  drift,  and  we  went  into 
Helena  and  we  offered  a  share  in  it  to  a  few  capitalists 
we  thought  we  could  trust.  None  of  'em  would  even 
look  at  it.  At  last  we  ran  on  to  Colonel  Starr, — old 
Beebee  Starr;  likely  you  never  heard  of  him,  but  they 
knew  him  well  enough  up  there, —  and  he  rode  out 
with  us  to  see  it  ;  and  he  tumbled  to  it,  too,  as  soon  as 
ever  he  'd  grubbed  out  a  few  specimens  with  his  own 
pick  and  had  'em  assayed.  Well,  he  would  n't  take  a 
half-interest  and  find  the  money  to  develop  the  mine, 
which  was  what  we  wanted  him  to  do,  and  we  were 
stony-broke  b)'  that  time  except  for  our  cay  uses  and 


94  Lone  Pine 

our  camp  outfit,  and  winter  a-coming  on  ;  and  the  long 
and  short  of  it  was  that  we  gave  Colonel  Starr  a  quit- 
claim deed  to  our  whole  interest  in  the  Last  Lap  Lode 
for  twelve  thousand  five  hundred  dollars  in  greenbacks, 
paid  down  on  the  nail.  The  Last  Lap  has  paid  more 
than  that  much  in  a  month  in  dividends  since  then, 
but  that 's  common  enough  ;  that 's  how  things  do  pan 
out;  but  I  don't  believe  in  whining  over  my  luck,  never 
did.  And  I  'd  been  waiting  eight  years  for  a  look  in, 
and  I  did  n't  despise  getting  my  half  of  the  twelve 
thousand  five  hundred  dollars,  if  the  Last  Lap  was 
worth  a  million. 

"  So  we  sold  the  best  quartz  mine  in  Montana,  and 
that  's  where  Rocky  and  I  split.  We  got  the  money 
from  Colonel  Starr  in  greenbacks,  and  it  was  a  roll  as 
thick  as  my  arm.  And  Rocky  pouched  it  all,  for  I  had 
to  go  out  to  a  cabin  three  miles  out  of  town  to  see  an- 
other old  pard  of  mine  who  had  been  crushed  by  a  fall 
of  rock  and  was  dying.  I  know  I  ought  never  to  have 
left  Rocky  with  that  money  on  him ;  but  what  was  I  to 
do  ?  It  was  late  in  the  day  ;  I  had  to  go  ;  I  could  n't 
take  it  along  with  me,  for  a  man  was  liable  in  those 
days  to  be  held  up  anywhere  round  the  outskirts  of 
town  by  those  cursed  road- agents.  Rocky  had  kept 
plumb  straight  for  over  a  year.  I  trusted  him,  and  I 
went.  I  got  back  to  our  hotel  that  night  about  ten 
o'clock,  and  a  man  says  to  me,  '  D'  you  know  where 
your  pard  Rocky  's  gone  ?  ' 

"  '  No,'  says  I,  '  aint  he  here  ?  ' 

'  Not  much,'  says  he;  '  he  's  at  Frenchy's,  bucking 
agi'n'  the  tiger.' 

"  My  heart  felt  like  a  lump  of  ice.  I  just  turned 
right  around  and  walked  across  the  road  to  where  this 
Frenchy  kept  a  faro  bank,  and  went  in.  There  was 


Children  of  the  Sun  95 

Rocky,  about  half  drunk,  sitting  at  the  table,  with  about 
three  little  chips  on  the  cloth  before  him.  I  went  up 
and  put  my  hand  on  Rocky 's  shoulder  and  looked  on. 
The  dealer  turned  up  the  jack,  I  think  it  was,  and 
raked  in  Rocky 's  stake.  Rocky  turns  his  head  and 
looks  up  at  me  with  a  ghastly  grin.  '  Is  that  you  ? '  says 
he  ;  '  Jack,  you  'd  orter  hev  come  before.  I  've  had  a 
devil  of  a  run  of  bad  luck  ;  I  'm  cleaned  out.' 

"  '  In  God's  name,'  says  I,  '  is  that  so  ?  ' 

"  '  You  bet,'  says  he. 

"  I  felt  as  if  my  eyes  were  two  big  burning  holes  in 
my  head.  '  God  forgive  you,  Rocky,'  says  I,  '  for 
playing  the  giddy  goat,  and  me  for  leaving  you  alone 
for  one  night  in  Helena,  Montana.  Come  on  out  of  this 
now,  Rocky,  and  I  '11  divide  my  share  with  you.  I 
never  went  back  on  a  pard.' 

"  Then  the  big  blow  came.  '  Your  share  ? '  says  he  ; 
'  why  it  's  all  gone.  It  's  all  gone,  every  dollar  of  it, 
and  them  chips  you  saw  me  lose  was  the  end  of  the  Last 
Lap  Lode.'  I  heard  some  bummer  behind  me  give  a 
laugh,  one  of  those  whiskey-soaking  galoots  that  think 
it  funny  to  see  the  next  man  cleaned  out. 

"  I  felt  a  queer  lump  in  my  throat,  and  I  says  to  the 
banker,  very  solemn,  '  Mr.  Frenchy,  this  gentleman 
here,'  I  was  holding  my  hand  on  Rocky,  '  he  's  my 
pardner,  and  I  must  beg  you  to  take  notice  that  half 
what  you  've  won  off  him  is  my  property  that  he  had 
charge  of.' 

"  '  That  's  no  use,  young  man,'  says  the  banker  to 
me.  '  We  play  for  keeps  in  this  house,  and  so  you  '11 
find  it.' 

'  We  '11  see  about  that,'  says  I.  '  Now,  Rocky, 
tell  me,  is  the  whole  of  the  Last  Lap  gone,  the  whole 
of  the  twelve  thousand  five  hundred  dollars  ?  ' 


96  Lone  Pine 

"  '  Every  last  cent,'  says  Rocky.  I  could  see  by  his 
looks  that  he  felt  powerful  mean. 

"  '  Then,  mister,'  says  I  to  the  banker — I  was  de- 
termined to  be  deadly  civil — '  six  thousand  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars  of  what  you  've  took  from  this 
gentleman  belongs  to  me.' 

"  '  You  're  interfering  with  the  progress  of  the 
game,'  says  he  ;  '  and  say,  look  here,  you  don't  need 
to  make  that  remark  of  yours  here  again.  That  's  en- 
tirely a  matter  between  you  and  your  pard  ;  it  's  none 
of  my  business,  but  if  you  want  any  advice  of  me,  it 
is  that  you  take  him  outside  and  settle  it  with  him.' 

"  He  had  his  gang  around  him,  and  I  saw  that  they 
had  the  deadwood  on  me,  and  the  other  players  wanted 
to  go  ahead  with  their  game.  I  was  a  stranger  from 
the  mountains,  dead-broke,  with  no  backing,  and  I  felt 
there  was  no  show  for  me  in  that  shebang.  I  did  n't 
open  my  mouth,  but  I  set  myself  to  get  Rocky  home, 
first  thing.  I  had  pretty  near  to  drag  him  there. 
When  I  got  him  on  the  street  the  whiskey  he  'd  drunk 
went  into  his  head,  and  he  was  like  a  madman.  He 
wanted  to  fight  me,  actually  he  did,  till  I  got  his  gun 
away  from  him.  He  hit  me,  yes,  he  struck  me  with 
his  fist,  till  I  had  to  pinion  him  ;  luckily  I  was  the 
stronger  man  of  the  two.  I  got  him  back  to  our  room 
at  last,  and  got  him  to  bed.  He  just  laid  there  on  his 
bed  like  a  log  and  snored.  And  I  laid  over  there  on 
mine  and  cursed.  I  lay  awake  all  that  night  thinking. 
I  'd  been  a  brother  to  Rocky;  I  'd  saved  him  time  and 
again  before  that  night ;  and  now  he  'd  been  and  given 
me  clean  away, — lost  me  the  only  good  stake  I  'd  ever 
had  in  eight  years. 

"  I  was  sick.  I  did  n't  know  what  to  do.  We 
had  n'  t  even  money  to  pay  our  livery-stable  and  hotel 


Children  of  the  Sun  97 

bill.  We  'd  put  up  at  a  first-class  hotel  when  we  made 
our  bargain  with  Colonel  Starr,  reckoning  to  pay  our 
account  out  of  the  proceeds  of  the  Last  Lap.  Now,  by 
selling  our  cay  uses  we  'd  hardly  cover  it  ;  so  that  here 
we  were,  fairly  busted,  afoot,  stony-broke,  and  winter 
coming  on.  Sick  was  no  name  for  what  I  felt.  It  was 
all  to  begin  over  again,  and  I  was  eight  years  older 
than  when  I  started  out  at  prospecting.  You  bet  I  felt 
old  that  night.  Morning  came,  and  I  could  n't  eat  any 
breakfast.  Rocky  was  snoring  still.  I  belted  on  my 
six-shooter,  stepped  over  to  Frenchy's,  and  asked  for 
the  proprietor.  They  told  me  he  was  n't  up.  It  was 
a  tony  gambling-house,  you  know,  quite  a  '  way-up ' 
sort  of  place.  I  sat  down  and  said  I  could  wait.  At 
last  they  told  me  he  'd  see  me.  I  was  shown  up  into 
a  room.  He  was  there,  spick  and  span,  in  a  biled 
shirt  and  diamond  pin,  and  all  that. 

"  'Sit  down,'  says  he. 

"  '  Thank  you,'  said  I,  '  I  can  stand.  I  prefer  it.' 
There  was  a  table  between  us. 

"  '  Let  me  warn  you,'  says  he,  '  at  once,  that  this 
room  is  loopholed,  and  that  you  are  now  covered  with 
a  double-barrelled  shot-gun,  loaded  with  sixteen  buck- 
shot in  both  barrels,  at  about  ten  feet  off.  If  you  make 
a  move  towards  that  six-shooter  you  've  brought 
you  '11  be  filled  so  full  of  lead  that  your  hide  would  n't 
hold  shucks.' 

"  '  All  right,'  said  I,  '  I  expected  as  much.  I  did  n't 
bring  this  six-shooter  to  argue  with  you.' 

' '  He  kind  of  laughed  at  that.  '  Then  what  the  h— 1 
did  you  bring  it  here  for  ?  '  says  he. 

"  '  To  protect  myself  on  the  street, '  says  I  ;  '  to  pro- 
tect myself  from  footpads  as  I  go  back  to  my  hotel  with 
my  money.' 

7 


98  Lone  Pine 

"  '  What  money  's  that  you  're  talking  about  ?  '  says 
he. 

"  '  My  money,'  says  I,  '  that  you  've  won  off  my 
pardner  last  night,  six  thousand  two  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  in  greenbacks.  That  '11  need  protecting.' 

"  He  gave  a  kind  of  a  grin.  '  It  's  protected  by 
them  thirty-two  buckshot  at  the  present  moment,'  he 
says,  '  and  I  guess  they  're  good  enough  to  guarantee 
it.' 

"  '  I  'm  not  denying  it,'  says  I.  '  I  've  come  here, 
as  a  gentleman,  to  appeal  to  you  as  a  gentleman,  to 
restore  me  my  money  that  my  pardner  's  wrongly 
handed  over  to  you. ' 

"  He  looked  amused.  '  I  notice  you  don't  speak  as 
if  you  upheld  the  game  was  n't  square, —  as  if  he  'd 
been  robbed  of  it  here,'  says  he. 

"  '  I  don't  know  nothing  at  all  about  that,'  says  I. 
'  I  don't  gamble  myself,  but  I  don't  doubt  your  game  's 
a  square  game  enough,  as  things  go.  People  say  it  is. 
I  don't  complain  of  the  game  ;  that  's  Rocky  's  busi- 
ness, if  it  's  anybody's.  It  's  my  money  that  I  'm 
talking  about,  whether  it  was  a  skin  game  that  he  lost 
it  over  or  not.  It  's  those  greenbacks  that  Colonel 
Starr  paid  me  that  I  'm  here  for.' 

'  Then  he  fairly  laughed  out.  '  Why,  you  galoot,' 
says  he,  '  you  talk  like  a  tenderfoot,  yet  you  've  been 
around  this  Western  country  long  enough  to  cut  }-our 
eye-teeth.  When  did  you  ever  hear  of  a  professional 
gambler  giving  up  the  stakes  after  he  'd  won  'em  ? ' 

"  '  I  don't  know  as  I  ever  did,'  says  I  ;  '  but  if  not, 
here  's  the  place  for  it  to  begin  to  happen,  right  here 
and  now.  I  tell  you  I  've  got  to  have  that  money.  I 
tell  you  I  'm  tired.  I  've  prospected  in  every  range 
of  mountains  there  is  in  three  Territories  to  find  that 


Children  of  the  Sun  99 

Last  Lap  Lode.  I  've  been  eight  years  sweating  and 
starving  and  freezing  and  wrastling  round.  Yesterday, 
for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  got  my  stake,  and  I  've 
got  to  have  it.  I  tell  you  again  I  'm  tired.  I  won't 
go  through  it  all  again  for  nothing.  I  'm  either  going 
out  of  this  room  with  rny  money  in  my  pocket,  or  I  'm 
going  out  of  it  feet  first,  with  a  hole  in  my  head  you 
could  put  your  fist  through.  I  don't  threaten  nobody, 
but  I  '11  have  my  money  or  I  '11  die  right  here.' 

'  You  say  you  don't  threaten,'  says  he  suspiciously. 
'  Aint  that  what  you  're  saying  now — something  darned 
like  a  bluff  ? ' 

"'No,'  says  I,  '  it  aint.  I  don't  threaten,'  and  I 
turned  my  right  hip  round  towards  him  where  I  had 
my  pistol  slung.  '  I  '11  hold  up  my  hands  and  you  can 
take  away  this  pistol  if  you  like,'  and  I  threw  up  both 
my  arms  over  my  head. 

"  '  Put  down  your  hands,'  says  he  quietly,  '  I  don't 
want  to  take  your  pistol.'  There  were  mirrors  all 
round  the  room,  and  as  I  turned  I  caught  sight  of  my 
face,  and  though  I  felt  red-hot  I  could  see  I  was  as 
white  as  a  sheet,  and  my  eyes  like  coals  of  fire.  Truth 
to  tell,  I  was  mad.  '  Don't  take  things  too  hard,'  says 
he,  '  it  '11  come  right.  I  know  just  how  you  feel.  I '  ve 
been  busted  myself  more  nor  once.  Look  here,  young 
man,  I  've  rather  taken  a  liking  to  you.  I  'm  going 
to  set  you  going  again.  I  '11  give  you  a  thousand 
dollars  out  of  my  own  pocket,  and  that  '11  start  you, 
and  all  I  '11  ask  is ' 

"  '  You  '11  give  h— 1  !  '  I  burst  out.  '  I  'm  not  a  beg- 
gar !  I  don't  want  no  man's  charity.  I  want  my 
money — six  thousand  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  in 
greenbacks — neither  more  nor  less.  That  's  all.'  ' 

Stephens  paused.     The  vividness  of  his  own  recol- 


ioo  Lone  Pine 

lections,  excited  by  the  recital  of  the  incident,  had 
flushed  his  face  and  quickened  his  breathing.  His 
pipe  had  gone  out,  and  he  signalled  to  the  boy  for  an- 
other coal  to  relight  it.  Manuelita  sprang  up,  ran  to 
the  kitchen  hearth,  snatched  a  coal  from  it,  and  gave  it 
to  the  boy  to  carry  in. 

Don  Nepomuceno,  keenly  interested,  leaned  forward 
with  his  hands  on  his  knees.  '  Yes,"  he  said,  "  yes. 
Gambling  makes  much  trouble.  I  know  it,  for  I  was 
a  great  gambler  myself.  There  were  four  years  that  I 
gambled  a  great  deal,  when  I  was  sowing  my  wild 
oats."  He  nodded  with  the  sententiousness  of  a  re- 
formed character,  who  yet  relished  the  reminiscence. 
"  It  's  a  bad  thing,  very  bad.  But  young  men  will  be 
young  men.  Now,  there  's  my  son  Andres,  he  gam- 
bled a  great  deal  too  much  last  winter.  But,  look  you, 
I  am  keeping  that  young  man  now  out  in  camp  with 
the  sheep  herd,  to  see  after  the  peons.  The  lambing 
season  is  just  coming  on,  and  they  are  going  off  up  the 
Valle  Grande,  where  there  is  much  green  grass.  That 
is  far  away  from  the  settlements  ;  he  can't  get  into 
much  trouble  up  there,  can  he  ? "  and  the  father 
chuckled  with  self-satisfaction  over  his  ingenious  little 
manoeuvre.  "  But  here,  I  am  interrupting  you,  Don 
Estevan,  and  I  want  to  hear  the  rest  of  your  story. 
Please  excuse  me,  and  continue." 

"  Well,"  resumed  Stephens,  "  the  upshot  of  it  was 
he  saw  I  was  in  earnest.  So  I  was.  I  expected  to  die 
right  there.  If  he  'd  attempted  to  leave  that  room, 
I  'd  have  jumped  him,  and  then  they  'd  have  killed 
me.  I  did  n't  mind,  I  was  so  wound  up.  He  turns  to 
me,  and  says  he,  '  I  believe  I  'm  going  to  do  a  thing 
that  I  never  did  before,  young  man.  I  'm  going  to 
give  you  back  that  money  that  your  partner  lost  of 


Children  of  the  Sun  101 

yours.'  He  went  to  a  safe  he  had  in  the  corner,  un- 
locks it,  takes  out  a  roll  of  notes  and  brings  'em  to  the 
table.  'Jake,'  he  sung  out  to  his  man  through  the 
wall,  '  you  can  put  away  that  shot-gun,  it  aint  needed.' 

"  He  counts  out  to  me  the  full  amount  and  hands  it 
over. 

"  '  Mr.  Freuchy,'  says  I,  '  you  're  a  gentleman.  I  '11 
never  forget  this  the  longest  day  I  live.' 

'  No  more  '11  I,'  says  he,  with  a  dry  grin  on  his 
face.  '  The  laugh  's  on  me  this  time,  I  think,'  he  says, 
'  and  I  can  tell  you  that  aint  the  case  very  often.' 

"  '  I  think  likely,'  says  I,  getting  up  to  go.  '  Good 
morning,  mister  ;  will  you  shake  hands  ? ' 

"  '  That  I  will,'  says  he  ;  and  we  shook. 

"  '  Look  here,'  says  he,  holding  me  by  the  hand,  '  I 
want  to  ask  you  one  thing  more.  If  you  thought  you 
had  the  best  right  to  this  money  why  did  n't  you  go  to 
a  lawyer  and  enter  suit  for  it  ?  ' 

' '  '  Go  to  a  lawyer  !  '  said  I  ;  '  what  would  I  do  that 
for  ?  The  law  in  Montana  's  a  thief ;  you  know  it,  and 
everyone  knows  it.'  So  it  was,  Don  Nepomuceno. 
The  head  of  the  ladrones  there  was  the  regular,  lawful, 
elected  sheriff  of  Helena  ;  the  road-agents  ran  the 
country  in  fact. 

"  '  No,'  says  I  to  Mr.  Frenchy,  '  I  did  n't  want  no 
lawyer.  I  heard  say  you  were  a  gentleman,  and  I 
thought  I  'd  give  you  a  chance  to  prove  it,  and  I  'm 
glad  I  did.'  " 

Stephens  took  a  few  draws  at  his  pipe  ;  the  excite- 
ment into  which  he  had  worked  himself  over  his  story 
was  passing  off  now  the  climax  was  over. 

"  Well,"  he  resumed,  "  I  went  back  to  my  hotel  and 
I  woke  Rocky.  I  told  him  we  must  part,  and  I  offered 
to  divide.  He  would  n't  quite  do  that,  but  he  took  a 


IO2  Lone  Pine 

thousand  dollars  off  me.  He  was  mighty  penitent,  but 
I  told  him  I  'd  no  use  for  such  a  pard  any  more.  I 
was  sick  of  Montana  altogether,  and  concluded  to  skip. 
I  paid  my  hotel  bill,  went  over  to  Frenchy's  and  made 
him  a  present  of  my  cayuse,  and  I  donated  over  to  him 
my  share  in  every  claim  I  had  located  in  Montana  to 
compensate  him  for  what  he  had  lost  by  giving  up  the 
half  of  Rocky's  losings.  I  believe  he  's  made  a  pot  of 
money  out  of  some  of  those  claims  since.  I  took  the 
stage  for  Green  River  City,  and  then  for  Denver,  and 
I  got  through  safe  without  being  held  up.  I  salted 
down  most  of  my  money  into  Denver  real  estate,  which 
pays  me  a  fair  interest,  and  part  I  've  used  in  paying 
my  way  while  I  've  been  prospecting  in  Southern 
Colorado  and  Northern  New  Mexico.  And  that 's  how 
I  come  to  be  here. ' ' 

"  Thank  you,  Don  Estevan,  thank  you,"  said  the 
Mexican.  "It  is  most  interesting;  but  I  wonder  you 
can  think  of  going  back  to  such  a  companero.  It  is  a 
very  perilous  idea. ' ' 

"  Oh,  well,"  answered  Stephens  carelessly,  as  he 
rose  to  take  his  departure,  "  meeting  him  is  n't  the 
same  thing  as  going  and  doubling  up  with  him  again. 
I  '11  be  apt  to  know  more  about  that  when  I  see  him." 

But  Manuelita's  heart  gave  a  little  painful  throb  at 
the  discovery  that  this  man,  in  whom  she  was  fast 
learning  to  take  an  interest  too  great  for  her  own  peace 
of  mind,  could  return  so  lightly  to  a  life  that  had  already 
brought  him  into  such  dangers,  and  could  depart  ap- 
parently without  thinking  of  her,  or  of  what  his  loss 
might  mean  to  her.  He  did  indeed  belong  to  another 
world. 

His  mule  was  brought  out  and  saddled,  and  his  belt 
once  more  buckled  on,  with  the  revolver  hanging  low 


Children  of  the  Sun  103 

on  his  right  hip.  He  warmly  grasped  Don  Nepomu- 
ceno's  hand  at  parting,  and  with  a  smile  and  a  bow 
and  his  hat  doffed  to  the  ladies,  he  swung  himself  into 
the  saddle  and  rode  away. 

Don  Nepomuceno  and  his  sister  stood  in  the  great 
doorway  at  the  entrance  to  the  courtyard,  looking  after 
his  retreating  form.  He  rode  with  the  long  stirrup 
and  erect  military  seat  of  one  who  had  seen  service  in 
a  United  States  cavalry  regiment,  no  bad  school  for 
horsemanship  ;  his  fine  figure  and  his  athletic  frame 
showed  off  to  great  advantage.  A  hundred  yards 
away,  at  the  bend  of  the  road,  he  turned  in  his  saddle 
to  wave  his  hat  once  more  in  a  final  adieu,  and  the 
warm  sunlight  kissed  his  profusion  of  golden  curls. 
Manuelita  ran  back  into  the  house  that  her  aunt  might 
not  detect  the  emotion  betrayed  by  her  quivering  lip. 
But  the  elder  lady  had  her  gaze  steadily  directed 
towards  the  parting  guest.  "  Ah,  que  hombres  tan 
aventureros,  si,  son  estos  !  "  she  said  —  "What  bold 
adventurers  they  are,  those  men  !  " 

"  True  indeed,"  answered  her  brother,  "  't  is  most 
true.  For  myself,  I  hate  the  Americans,  most  of 
them,  but  admire  this  one,  and  I  like  him  too.  But 
he  is  set  on  this  life  of  adventure.  I  sounded  him  on 
the  matter  ;  I  even  hinted  to  him  that  it  was  full  time 
for  him  to  marry  and  settle  down.  But  he  would  none 
of  it." 

"  Es  hombre  muy  frio  " — "  He  is  a  very  cold  man  " 
— said  the  Mexican  woman,  and  there  was  a  spice  of 
scorn  as  well  as  regret  in  her  tone.  She  despised  a 
man  who  was  a  laggard  in  love,  and  her  spoken  judg- 
ment had  coincided  with  Manuelita' s  thought. 

"It  is  true,  it  is  most  true,"  assented  her  brother. 
"  He  is  cold.  These  Americans  are  not  impassioned 


IO4  Lone  Pine 

in  the  love  of  women  as  we  are.  The  chill  of  their 
frozen  North  is  in  the  very  marrow  of  their  bones. 
They  are  not  like  unto  us  of  Mexico  and  the  South." 

Those  who  know  them  best  will  bear  witness  that, 
whether  they  are  descended  from  Spanish  conquista- 
dores,  from  the  devoted  warriors  of  Montezuma,  the 
passionate  hearts  of  the  sons  and  daughters  of  Mexico 
prove  them  in  very  truth  to  be  Children  of  the  Sun. 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  SQUAW  FOR  A   FEE 

ALL,  day  Felipe  remained  in  the  wheat  patch.  At 
noon  he  ate  his  lunch  of  bread  and  dried  flesh 
down  by  the  river  instead  of  going  back  to  the  pueblo. 
At  intervals  during  the  day  he  came  to  the  edge  of  the 
bank  in  order  to  see  that  the  mare  and  the  remaining 
mule  were  all  right,  and  not  trying  to  get  up  the  bank 
into  the  crops.  He  might  have  gone  off  to  talk,  for  a 
change  to  other  Indians,  who  were  working  in  their 
fields,  but  he  did  not  care  to.  His  heart  was  too  sore  ; 
he  wanted  to  be  alone.  He  thought  and  he  thought, 
but  all  to  no  purpose.  He  ended  by  saying  to  himself, 
"  Well,  there  's  one  day  more.  I  '11  see  Josefa  to- 
night, and  we  '11  talk  it  over." 

A  wild  idea  floated  through  his  brain  of  taking  one 
of  Don  Estevan's  animals  without  his  leave,  but  he 
knew  it  was  wild.  He  believed  Don  Estevan  would 
shoot  anyone  that  did  so,  and  he  did  not  mean  to  incur 
that  penalty.  The  only  rational  scheme  he  could 
think  of  was  to  run  off  in  the  night  to  the  sierra,  find 
the  horse  herd  next  day,  get  his  father's  horse  and 
start  back  with  it,  but  instead  of  coming  straight  to  the 
pueblo,  to  lie  hid  in  the  foothills  of  the  sierra  till  night 
time,  and  then  slip  down  and  get  Josefa  to  come.  But 
he  knew  that  on  the  morrow,  when  his  father  missed 

105 


io6  Lone  Pine 

him,  there  would  be  a  noise  made  and  he  might  be 
followed,  in  which  case  his  plan  might  miscarry,  the 
more  so  that  his  disappearance  would  cause  a  doubly 
sharp  watch  to  be  kept  on  Josefa.  With  melancholy 
eyes  he  watched  the  sun  sink  lower  and  lower  in  the 
west.  Precious  time  was  passing,  and  he  was  doing 
nothing  and  could  do  nothing  to  bring  his  will  to  pass. 
He  burned  with  desire  to  act,  and  he  was  helpless. 

Before  sunset  he  caught  the  mare  and  mule,  and 
took  them  up  to  the  pueblo  in  order  to  put  them  in  the 
corral  for  the  night.  This  was  the  time  of  day  when 
Josefa  was  likely  to  be  fetching  water  from  the  ditch, 
which  had  been  empty  all  the  morning  on  account  of 
the  blasting,  and  in  the  hope  of  meeting  her  Felipe  led 
them  through  the  street  on  which  her  father's  house 
faced. 

And  where  had  Josefa  been  all  this  time  ?  She  had 
been  hard  at  work  at  home,  under  the  vigilant  eye  of 
her  step-mother.  Grinding  corn  meal  was  the  labour 
which  she  was  set  to  do,  a  good  steady  task  to  give  to 
a  young  person  of  rebellious  disposition.  The  Indian 
hand-mill  is  a  large,  smooth  stone,  something  like  a 
flagstone,  set  sloping  in  a  box  on  the  floor.  The 
grinding  is  always  done  by  a  woman,  who  kneels  on 
the  ground,  and  bending  over  the  mill  rubs  the  corn  up 
and  down  with  a  smaller  stone  held  in  both  her  hands. 
Hard  work  it  is  indeed  for  back  and  arms,  but  the 
Pueblo  women  keep  it  up  for  hours.  Their  good 
health  and  fane  physique  are  largely  due  to  this  vigor- 
ous exercise. 

Josefa  worked  away  over  the  mill  till  her  back  ached, 
while  her  step-mother,  at  the  other  end  of  the  room  sat 
at  a  hand-loom,  on  which  she  was  slowly  weaving  a 
gorgeous  blanket  of  many  colours  for  the  cacique's 


A  Squaw  for  a  Fee  107 

next  official  appearance.  Josefa  thought  as  she  toiled 
at  her  work  ;  and  her  mind  reviewed  over  and  over 
again  different  alternatives.  From  the  bottom  of  her 
heart  she  hoped  that  Felipe  would  be  successful  in 
getting  a  horse  from  the  American.  If  he  did  n't,  she 
did  not  know  what  she  should  do.  One  thing  only 
was  certain  in  her  mind.  Have  Ignacio  she  would  not. 
They  might  starve  her,  and  they  might  beat  her,  but 
they  should  not  force  her  to  be  his  wife.  What  was  the 
use  of  being  a  woman  of  Santiago  if  she  might  n't  have 
some  say  in  the  matter  ?  Why  should  she  be  treated 
as  a  slave,  as  the  savage  Utes  treated  their  women  ? 
"  I  don't  care,"  she  said  to  herself,  and  as  she  said  it 
she  stiffened  her  back,  and  rubbed  away  at  the  re- 
fractory corn  harder  than  ever.  "  I  won't.  He  's  old, 
and  he  's  ugly,  and  I  hate  him.  I  know  he  beat  his 
first  wife — he  did.  I  won't  have  him." 

She  glowed  with  the  heat  of  her  scorn  and  indigna- 
tion ;  but  all  the  time  a  little  unbelieving  spirit  in  the 
recesses  of  her  mind  kept  asking  in  a  sort  of  undertone, 
' '  How  will  you  like  being  beaten  if  you  disobey  ? 
How  will  you  like  it ;  how  will  you  like  it  ?  "  And  as 
she  cooled  off  from  her  glow,  and  thought  of  another 
side  to  the  picture, — an  intercepted  flight,  rough  seizure, 
angry  words,  and  furious  blows, — she  quaked.  She  had 
not  been  beaten  since  she  was  a  child,  and  not  much 
then,  for  the  Pueblo  Indians  are  good  to  their  little 
ones  ;  but  she  knew  that  her  father  was  within  his 
rights  in  giving  her  to  whom  he  chose,  and  that  those 
who  broke  the  laws  of  the  community  were  liable  to 
the  lash.  She  had  never  seen  it  done  severely.  All 
she  had  seen  was  two  or  three  cuts  with  a  whip,  ad- 
ministered publicly  in  the  street  after  a  severe  scolding 
by  the  marshal  of  the  village,  to  some  misdemeanant 


io8  Lone   Pine 

who  had  let  his  ass  trespass  among  the  standing  corn, 
or  who  had  otherwise  broken  some  of  their  simple  rules; 
but  she  knew  with  what  severity,  in  private,  serious 
offences  were  treated,  and  in  the  depths  of  her  brave 
little  heart  she  quaked. 

But  the  quaking  fit  passed  off,  too,  as  the  indignant 
glow  had  done  ;  perhaps  the  hard  work  helped  her 
through.  "  They  can't  do  more  than  kill  me,"  said 
she  to  herself.  "  I  can  stand  it.  But  have  old  Ignacio 
I  won't." 

Then  she  thought  of  Felipe.  She  had  not  much  fear 
for  him.  His  own  father  certainly  would  n't  beat  him. 
For  one  thing  he  could  n't,  for  the  son  was  the  stronger; 
and  as  for  Ignacio,  she  fairly  laughed  to  herself  at  the 
idea  of  the  ugly  old  fellow  attacking  Felipe.  '  Why, 
Felipe  would  put  him  on  the  ground  in  a  moment,  and 
keep  him  there,  too,  as  long  as  he  wanted, ' '  she  thought, 
and  felt  a  grim  satisfaction  at  the  idea.  The  only 
danger  she  feared  for  him  was  lest  he  should  get  furi- 
ous and  use  his  knife,  and  kill  Ignacio,  and  be  hanged 
for  it.  But  Felipe  had  promised  her  never,  never  to  do 
such  a  thing,  and  he  would  keep  his  word.  Such  a 
thing  had  not  happened  in  the  pueblo  for  forty  years — 
not  since  old  Fernando  was  a  youth,  when  he  had 
quarrelled  in  a  fit  of  jealousy  with  another  Indian  and 
stabbed  him,  and  had  been  arrested,  and  afterwards 
pardoned. 

Towards  evening  it  was  reported  that  the  ditch  was 
running  again,  and  Josefa  and  her  step-sisters  went  out 
to  draw  water.  With  the  great  earthen  jars  on  their 
heads,  they  filled  out  one  after  another,  and  marched 
off  to  the  waterside.  Here  they  lowered  their  burdens 
to  the  ground,  and  slowly  filled  them  by  dipping  up 
cupfuls  of  water  with  their  gourds.  There  were  several 


A  Squaw  for  a  Fee  109 

other  women  at  the  waterside  doing  the  same  thing, 
and  there  was  much  animated  talk  about  the  blasting 
of  the  acequia — for  they  had  heard  the  explosions  quite 
distinctly  at  the  village — and  about  the  improvement 
of  the  ditch,  which  was  fuller  now  than  it  had  ever 
been  before. 

Then  some  of  the  younger  girls  took  to  playing  and 
splashing  each  other,  and  one  said  something  sly  to 
Josefa  about  Ignacio.  She  flushed  up  and  was  on  the 
point  of  flying  into  a  rage,  but  calmed  herself  in 
a  moment,  returned  a  laughing  retort,  and  joined  in 
the  fun  and  the  splashing.  Her  step-sisters  were  sur- 
prised, for  they  well  knew  her  feelings  on  the  subject 
of  the  intended  marriage  ;  but  they  supposed  that 
perhaps  she  was  growing  more  reconciled  to  the  idea 
of  it. 

At  last  the  welcome  interval  of  fun  and  gossip  came 
to  an  end.  One  by  one  the  jars,  now  full  and  very 
heavy,  were  carefully  elevated  on  the  heads  of  their 
owners,  the  party  broke  up,  and  the  women  returned 
to  their  respective  homes.  Josefa  was  hoping  for  the 
appearance  of  the  figure  she  desired  to  see,  and  lingered 
as  long  as  possible  ;  but  when  the  rest  of  the  party  had 
assumed  their  burdens  she  could  delay  no  longer, 
and,  taking  up  hers,  moved  after  them,  the  last  of  the 
file. 

As  they  re-entered  the  village  she  saw  with  joy  that 
her  manoeuvre  had  succeeded.  Felipe  was  strolling 
very  slowly,  and  apparently  quite  unconcerned,  up  the 
street,  leading  the  mare  and  mule  towards  the  corrals. 

They  dared  not  speak,  but  they  had  devised  a  little 
code  of  signals  of  their  own.  A  shake  of  the  head  con- 
veyed to  her,  ' '  I,  have  failed  "  ;  a  crook  of  the  fore- 
finger, "  I  am  coming  to-night."  An  answering  crook 


no  Lone  Pine 

from  her  said  to  him,  "  I  will  meet  you"  ;  and  they 
passed  on  their  ways,  no  one  but  themselves  the  wiser 
for  the  little  exchange  of  messages  that  had  taken 
place.  But  Josefa's  heart  sank  lower  still  as  she  crossed 
the  threshold  and  thought  that  one  of  the  precious  three 
days  was  already  gone,  and  no  means  of  escape  was  yet 
provided. 

At  sunset  her  father  returned.  The  acequia  round 
the  point  had  been  properly  embanked  on  its  lower 
side,  and  the  stone  dislodged  by  the  blasts  cleaned  out 
of  its  channel.  He  was  in  high  good  humour  at  the 
success  of  the  work,  which  would  render  memorable 
his  term  of  office.  He  brought  his  saddle  indoors,  and, 
taking  down  a  key  from  a  sort  of  shelf  of  wickerwork, 
which  was  slung  by  cords  from  the  roof  beams,  he  took 
his  horse  to  the  stable.  He  did  not  keep  him  at  the 
corrals,  where  the  prospector  kept  his  mare  and  mules, 
but  was  the  proud  possessor  of  a  mud-built  stable,  with 
a  lock  on  the  door. 

His  coming  set  Josefa  thinking  again.  "  Our  great 
difficulty,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  is  a  horse.  Why  not 
take  my  father's  ?  If  I  could  only  get  the  key  we 
could  manage  it.  I  could  not  indeed  get  down  the 
saddle  and  take  it  out  of  the  house  without  making  a 
noise,  but  Felipe  must  find  a  saddle.  And  if  I  can  get 
the  key  and  we  take  my  father's  horse,  he  will  have 
nothing  to  pursue  us  on,  which  is  double  reason  for 
taking  it." 

Filled  with  this  idea,  she  got  some  more  corn  and 
began  to  grind  again,  so  that  when  her  step-mother 
went  into  the  kitchen  to  prepare  the  evening  meal  she 
was  left  alone  in  the  outer  room.  Her  father  came 
back  from  the  stable  and  replaced  the  key  on  the  shelf, 
and  then  went  out  again  without  speaking  to  her. 


A  Squaw  for  a  Fee  1 1 1 

Now  was  her  chance.  She  darted  silently  across  the 
room,  seized  the  key,  and  flew  back  to  her  work  so 
quickly  that  no  one  in  the  next  room  could  have  sus- 
pected what  she  had  done. 

She  was  so  bright  and  cheerful  that  evening  that  her 
family  thought  she  must  have  ceased  her  opposition 
and  become  reconciled  to  the  match.  "  Ah,"  said  her 
step-mother,  "  if  Ignacio  only  gives  you  work  enough, 
and  does  n't  spoil  you,  he  '11  have  a  docile  wife  as  any 
in  the  pueblo. ' ' 

Josefa  laughed  aloud.  "  He  will  have  a  docile  one 
when  he  gets  me !  ' '  she  said.  But  she  laughed  to  think 
how  blank  they  would  look  at  daybreak  next  morning 
\vhen  they  found  her  flown. 

After  supper  the  cacique  and  the  chiefs  went  in  a 
body  to  call  upon  Stephens.  They  entered  the  room 
and  seated  themselves  against  the  wall  on  the  ground, 
sitting  on  sheepskins  or  on  mats  which  they  had  brought 
with  them.  Stephens  passed  round  the  tobacco-bag 
and  some  corn  husks  cut  square  for  cigarette  papers. 
Presently  old  Tostado  began  to  speak. 

'  We  are  very  grateful,  and  we  give  you  thanks, 
Sooshiuamo, ' '  said  he,  ' '  for  the  work  that  you  have 
done  for  us  to-day.  Ever  since  the  year  of  the  great 
eclipse  of  the  sun,  which  is  the  most  ancient  thing  the 
oldest  man  of  us  can  remember,  the  point  of  rocks  has 
been  that  which  has  given  trouble  to  us  all,  and  our 
fathers  told  us  it  was  so  when  they  were  little  boys. 
We  have  had  to  be  always  mending  it,  and  then  just 
when  we  had  most  need  of  water  it  always  broke. 
Then  you  came  among  us  to  stay.  You  know  that  we 
like  to  live  apart  from  the  rest  of  the  world.  We  do 
not  like  to  have  strangers  come  here  to  live.  Our 
fathers  never  allowed  it,  and  they  have  handed  down 


ii2  Lone  Pine 

to  us  as  sacred  the  command  that  we  should  never 
allow  it  either.  We  have  obeyed  their  command  until 
now,  and  never  till  this  day  have  we  proposed  to  make 
an  exception  to  o"ur  rule  in  favour  of  anybody.  The 
Mexicans,  and  others  who  wish,  may  live  at  San  Remo, 
and  they  may  live  at  Rio  Feliz,  and  at  other  places  in 
the  world,  where  they  belong,  but  here,  No.  It  is  not 
our  custom.  We  do  not  want  it,  and  we  "have  the  right 
to  prevent  it.  When  our  fathers  made  peace  with  the 
old  kings  of  Spain,  many  generations  ago,  they  had 
the  right  given  them  for  ever  to  keep  all  strangers 
away.  It  is  written  in  our  grant,  and  it  is  a  very  good 
law  to  have.  See  how  in  Abiquiu  the  Indians  let  the 
Mexicans  come  in,  and  now  they  are  a  sort  of  mixed 
people,  and  not  proper  Indians  at  all.  But  we  are  the 
Indians  of  Santiago,  and  we  wish  to  remain  the  same. 
But  you  came  among  us,  and  we  gave  you  a  name,  and 
you  lived  quietly  and  did  not  interfere  with  anyone, 
and  we  saw  that  you  were  good.  Then  we  gave  you 
leave  to  stop  on  and  to  go  and  hunt  in  the  mountain 
the  wild  cattle,  which  are  the  children  of  the  cattle  of 
the  Indians.  And  you  stayed  with  us  all  this  winter 
past,  and  you  have  been  happy  here  among  us  ;  but 
now  you  say  that  you  must  go  far  away  again,  follow- 
ing your  business.  Now  we  say  this  :  you  have  done 
a  thing  to-day  that  we  are  glad  of,  and  our  children 
will  be  glad  of,  and  their  children,  too,  for  ever.  Now 
we  say  this  :  you  live  alone,  and  life  alone  is  very 
lonesome.  It  is  good  that  you  should  give  up  the  life 
of  wandering  so  far  and  being  so  lonesome.  It  is  good 
that  you  should  live  here  with  us,  and  we  will  build 
you  a  house,  and  we  will  give  you  a  wife,  a  young  one 
and  a  good  one,  whichever  one  you  please  among  the 
girls,  and  we  will  assign  you  pieces  of  land  of  the  vil- 


A  Squaw  for  a  Fee  1 1 3 

lage,  and  you  shall  have  it  to  cultivate  the  same  as  we 
do.  If  you  do  not  want  to  work  with  the  plough  and 
the  hoe  yourself,  you  have  money  and  you  can  hire 
others  to  work.  And  you  shall  live  here  safe  and  at 
ease,  and  if  we  want  to  do  more  to  the  ditch,  or  to  keep 
the  smallpox  away,  you  shall  do  it,  because  you  are 
wise  and  know  the  arts  of  the  Americans.  We  have 
talked  it  over,  and  that  is  what  we  think."  And  he 
closed  his  oration  and  folded  his  blanket  about  him, 
not  without  dignity. 

Stephens  was  sitting  on  the  side  of  his  bed,  leaning 
forward  and  looking  down,  with  his  pipe  in  his  mouth, 
when  Tostado  began  his  speech.  As  it  proceeded,  he 
stopped  smoking,  and  still  sat  looking  thoughtfully  on 
the  ground,  holding  his  pipe  in  his  hand,  and  a  curious 
smile  came  over  his  features. 

"  People  seem  determined  to  make  a  squawman  out 
of  me  somehow,"  he  meditated.  "  First  a  lying  stage- 
driver  goes  and  swears  to  Sam  Argles  that  I  'm  one 
already,  and  now  here  comes  this  worthy  Tostado  with 
an  extremely  public  offer  of  the  pick  of  the  bunch. 
Well,  how  am  I  going  to  decline  ?  Shall  I  say,  '  Thanks 
very  much,  my  good  friend,  but  I  'm  not  taking  any, 
this  time  '  ?  Pretend  to  blush  and  be  embarrassed,  and 
play  the  funny  man  generally  ?  Not  much,  I  guess. 
My  jokes  with  these  people  don't  seem  to  come  off. 
They  're  not  their  style.  No,  I  '11  just  refuse  civilly  ; 
but,  seeing  that  they  're  making  themselves  so  particu- 
larly sweet  to  me  at  this  moment,  I  believe  I  '11  trot 
out  my  best  card  and  ask  for  the  mine. ' ' 

He  waited  till  the  applause  that  followed  Tostado's 
peroration  had  quite  died  away,  but  instead  of  rising  to 
make  a  formal  speech  in  reply,  he  remained  sitting  on 
the  side  of  the  bed. 

8 


ii4  Lone  Pine 

"I'm  sure  I  'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Tostado, ' ' 
he  began  conversationally,  looking  at  the  friendly  face 
of  the  Turquoise  headman,  "  and  to  all  of  you  chiefs 
here  present," — he  cast  a  comprehensive  glance  round 
the  circle, — "  for  the  good  opinion  you  say  you  have  of 
me,  and  for  your  proposal  that  I  should  settle  down 
among  you.  I  take  it  very  kind  of  you  that  you  offer 
me  a  wife  and  a  home  here.  But  I  'm  not  quite  pre- 
pared to  settle  at  present.  You  said,  Tostado,  that  I 
had  money  ;  so  I  have,  but  only  a  little,  not  enough, 
not  as  much  as  I  want.  Now,  I  've  got  this  to  say  to 
you.  There  's  just  one  thing  that  would  induce  me  to 
remain  here,  and  not  go  away.  Don't  be  startled,  it  's 
a  very  simple  matter  ;  you  know  that  I  'm  a  miner,  and 
live  by  finding  and  working  mines.  Well,  I  want  you 
to  give  me  leave  to  open  and  work  your  silver  mine, 
the  silver  mine  that  you  have  up  in  the  mountains,  and 
that  you  keep  so  carefully  hidden.  If  you  '11  make  a 
contract  with  me  to  do  that,  I  '11  stay  on  here  and  work 
the  mine  for  you.  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

Never  was  the  admirable  facial  self-control  of  the 
red  man  better  exemplified  than  in  the  reception  of  this 
speech.  To  the  Indians  the  very  name  of  mines  in 
connection  with  themselves  was  a  horror.  They  had 
awful  traditions  of  ancient  Spanish  cruelties,  of  whole 
villages  stripped  of  their  young  men,  who  were  forcibly 
carried  off  to  work  in  a  slavery  which  was  degradation 
and  death.  Spanish  enterprise  in  that  line  had  ceased 
with  the  exhaustion  of  the  labour  supply,  and  the  ac- 
cumulation of  water  in  the  shafts  which  they  had  no 
steam-pumps  to  remove.  But  the  terror  of  those  evil 
days  lay  upon  the  souls  of  the  red  men.  They  had  hid- 
den those  ancient  shafts  where  their  forefathers  laboured 
in  the  damp,  unwholesome  darkness,  till  sickness  and 


A  Squaw  for  a  Fee  1 1 5 

misery  found  their  only  respite  in  death.  They  guarded 
the  secret  of  them  jealously,  and  never  with  their  good- 
will should  they  be  reopened. 

At  the  words  of  the  American,  the  chiefs  turned  one 
to  another  with  looks  of  astonishment,  and  acted  their 
little  play  admirably. 

Tostado  remained  silent,  and  the  cacique  was  the 
first  to  speak. 

"  Silver  mine  ?"  he  innocently  asked.  "  What  silver 
mine  ?  "  thus  ignoring  the  fact  that  the  prospector  had 
broached  the  idea  to  him  already.  "  We  have  no  silver 
mine.  We  know  nothing  of  such  things.  The  Mexi- 
cans have  some,  far  away  in  the  south.  The  Americans 
have  some,  far  away  there,"  he  pointed  to  the  north. 
"  But  there  never  have  been  any  here,  never.  Is  it 
not  true,  my  brothers  ?  "  He  appealed  to  the  circle  of 
chiefs.  There  was  a  chorus  of  replies  :  "  It  is  true." 
"  There  never  have  been  any."  "  None  of  us  ever 
heard  of  such  things  here. ' ' 

"  Nonsense,  Salvador,"  retorted  Stephens,  laughing 
as  good-humouredly  as  he  could  by  way  of  reassuring  the 
suspicious  redskins.  "  Everybody  round  here  knows 
that  you  fellows  have  a  mine  that  you  keep  well  covered 
up  so  that  nobody  shall  find  it.  Very  sensible  plan 
that  of  yours,  too.  Quite  right  not  to  let  other  people 
get  hold  of  it.  I  allow  that.  But  you  're  all  wrong 
about  one  thing.  You  're  afraid  the  Spaniards  may 
come  back  and  force  you  to  work  in  the  mine  again. 
No  fear.  The  Spaniards  have  gone  for  keeps,  and  the 
American  Government  has  come,  and  it  's  going  to 
stop.  There  's  absolutely  nothing  to  be  afraid  of.  I '  ve 
heard  of  your  mine  ;  now,  you  let  me  work  it  for  you  ; 
I  '11  make  money  out  of  it  for  myself  and  money  for 
you.  The  money  will  buy  you  lots  of  cows  and  sheep 


u6  Lone   Pine 

and  horses,  and  improved  ploughs  and  good  guns,  and 
all  sorts  of  things.  You  say  you  have  got  confidence 
in  me,  here  's  your  chance  to  show  it." 

He  might  as  well  have  expended  his  eloquence  upon 
the  dead  adobe  walls.  The  chiefs  stared  at  him  vacantly. 
When  Stephens  ceased  there  was  a  pause,  and  then 
Tostado  took  up  the  subject. 

"It  is  quite  true  what  you  say,  Sooshiuamo.  You 
are  our  friend.  The  American  Government  is  our 
friend  ;  it  has  protected  us  from  the  Mexicans  when 
they  tried  to  ride  roughshod  over  us,  and  we  are  grate- 
ful to  the  American  Government.  But  the  stories  about 
a  silver  mine  are  foolishness.  These  Mexicans  must 
have  been  yarning  to  you  ;  they  are  idle  talkers.  We 
have  no  mine.  We  never  had  a  mine.  We  don't  know 
anything  about  mines,  and  never  did."  And  again  all 
the  chiefs  chorused  : 

"  We  know  nothing  of  a  mine  ;  nothing  whatever." 

For  a  whole  hour  Stephens  argued  with  them.  Vain 
effort.  No  solid  rock  was  ever  more  impenetrable  than 
an  Indian  who  has  made  up  his  mind,  and  the  baffled 
and  wearied  prospector  gave  it  up  in  despair. 

His  thoughts  drifted  away  to  earlier  days  when  he 
first  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  that  wonderful  rush 
to  the  El  Dorado  of  this  century,  the  Far  Western  gold- 
fields.  He  thought  of  his  hopes,  his  failures,  and  his 
struggles  ;  how  he  had  always  intended  ' '  when  he  had 
made  his  pile,"  to  go  back  East  and  marry  a  nice  girl 
of  his  own  race,  and  settle  down  comfortably.  When 
he  had  made  his  pile  ! — the  will-o'-the-wisp  that  has 
led  many  a  man  such  a  weary  dance  through  the  sloughs 
of  life.  He  had  to  admit  to  himself  that  he  had  lowered 
his  figure.  He  had  set  it  at  first  at  a  million,  a  brown- 
stone  front,  and  a  seat  in  the  United  States  Senate.  It 


A  Squaw  for  a  Fee  1 1 7 

had  come  down  step  by  step  in  the  last  ten  years,  till  it 
stood  now  at  ten  thousand  dollars, — enough  to  buy  a 
nice  little  place  back  East,  and  stock  it,  and  have 
something  left  on  hand  ;  but,  alas  !  he  was  not  half- 
way yet  even  to  that  goal — and  now  there  was  offered 
him  a  mud  home,  an  Indian  squaw,  and  a  corn  patch. 
"  Not  yet,  I  reckon,"  said  he  to  himself,  with  a 
grimmer  smile  than  ever.  "I  've  not  come  to 
that  quite  yet.  Not  but  what  these  Indians  are  the 
honestest  and  most  virtuous  folks  to  live  among  that 
ever  I  knew.  But  I  can't  quite  go  turning  squawman 
yet." 

"  Much  obliged  to  you,  Tostado,"  said  he  in  response 
to  a  renewed  offer,  "  but  I  don't  want  to  settle  down 
just  now.  No,  thank  you.  I  have  business  to  see 
after  far  away,  beyond  the  country  of  the  Navajos. 
Not  that  I  don't  like  you  here.  I  consider  you  as  my 
friends.  You  know  that.  Perhaps  some  other  day  I 
may  think  about  settling  down,  but  now  I  have  other 
business.  But  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  all  the 
same." 

"  No,"  said  the  Indian  ;  "  it  is  we  who  are  obliged 
to  you  for  what  you  have  done  for  us.  It  is  a  great 
thing,  and  we  are  grateful  to  you  for  it.  There  is  no- 
thing we  would  not  do  for  you."  And  then  he  went 
on  to  praise  and  compliment  Stephens,  and  the  Ameri- 
cans generally  ;  for  he  was  no  mean  proficient  in  the 
art  of  oratory,  and  enjoyed  doing  what  he  knew  he 
could  do  well,  and  what  his  people  admired  him  for. 

Poor  Stephens  could  not  escape  from  the  flow  of  lan- 
guage by  quietly  walking  off,  as  he  had  done  in  the 
morning  ;  and  though  he  wanted  badly  to  get  free  to 
finish  reading  his  San  Francisco  weekly  paper,  he 
could  not  be  so  discourteous  as  to  cut  the  speech  short 


u8  Lone  Pine 

abruptly.  But  all  things  come  to  an  end  at  last,  and 
finally  the  chiefs,  having  made  speeches  to  their  heart's 
content,  took  their  leave,  folded  their  blankets  around 
them,  and  filed  off  into  the  moonlight. 


CHAPTER  X 

AN   ELOPEMENT 

ONCE  again  Felipe  waited  patiently  for  the  setting 
of  the  moon,  in  the  dark  corner  between  the 
mud  oven  and  the  wall  where  we  saw  him  first. 
Thoughts  keen  almost  as  sensations  chased  each  other 
through  his  mind  as  he  crouched  there  watching. 
Dominant  was  the  feeling  of  the  eternal  sense  of  need  : 
"  I  want  her  and  I  '11  have  her."  All  this  trouble,  and 
strife,  and  disappointment  only  made  him  more  ob- 
stinate. "  I  will  succeed,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  I 
will.  If  I  fail  now  I  shall  be  a  loser  all  my  life — always 
wanting,  never  getting.  If  I  win  I  shall  have  what  I 
desire  all  my  life  and  be  happy."  This  was  frank 
egoism.  Felipe's  moral  standpoint  may  be  guessed 
from  the  fact  that  had  he  been  told  he  was  egoistic  he 
would  not  have  understood  the  implied  reproach.  To 
himself  his  position  was  simply  natural. 

But  it  would  be  wrong  to  suppose  that  generous  and 
unselfish  impulses  did  not  run  side  by  side  with  self- 
regarding  ones.  He  thought  of  Josefa,  lonely  and  sad 
in  her  father's  hojjse.  His  anger  rose  as  he  thought 
of  the  unkindness  and  the  threats  she  had  to  endure, 
and  of  the  heartless  way  in  which  she  was  being  dis- 
posed of.  He  longed  to  save  her  from  the  present 
trouble  and  from  the  hateful  future  that  threatened 

119 


I2O  Lone  Pine 

her.  How  sweet  she  was  and  how  beautiful !  Every 
fibre  in  his  frame  thrilled  at  the  thought  of  becoming 
her  protector,  at  the  delicious  idea  of  her  seeking 
safety  in  his  arms,  while  he  acted  as  her  shield  against 
tyranny  and  wrong.  And  through  her  sweet  eyes  there 
looked  out,  he  knew,  the  faithful  soul  of  a  true  and 
loving  woman.  She  was  good.  He  felt  as  sure  of  that 
as  he  did  of  his  own  existence.  Her  kindness  and 
dutiful  spirit  he  knew,  for  he  had  seen  her  behaviour 
in  the  daily  life  of  the  village.  What  a  shame  it  was 
that  she  should  be  so  ill-treated  just  because  she  was 
by  nature  gentle  and  obedient  !  Poor  girl,  she  would 
want  to  be  comforted  a  great  deal  to  make  up  for  all  the 
trials  she  was  undergoing  now.  He  would  have  to  be 
very  good  to  her  in  every  way,  and  he  swore  to  him- 
self that  he  would  be  so  ;  he  would  do  his  best  to  make 
her  happy.  Ah,  if  they  could  but  once  get  to  the 
padre  at  Ensenada  and  be  married  by  him,  it  would 
be  all  right  ;  and  at  the  thought  his  pulse  beat  high. 

At  last  the  welcome  hand  appeared  at  the  hole  in  the 
wall  he  had  been  watching  so  long,  and  he  flew  to  the 
spot. 

"Is  that  you,  sweetheart?"  he  whispered  as  he 
stretched  his  hand  along  the  wall  to  meet  the  little 
fingers.  "  I  always  tell  myself  you  will  not  come,  just 
to  tease  myself,  for  I  know  all  the  time  that  you  will. 
And  at  last  I  see  the  signal  and  I  know  it  is  all  right." 

"  You  know  I  always  do  come,"  she  returned,  "  you 
bad  boy,  as  soon  as  I  feel  sure  they  are  sound  asleep. 
But  now  tell  me  what  news  you  have." 

"  Bad  enough,"  said  he  despondently.  "  I  asked 
the  American — I  begged  hard  of  him  ;  but  he  would 
not  lend  me  one  of  his  beasts.  I  waited  till  he  was  in 
a  good  temper,  after  he  had  blasted  the  rock  ;  but  it  was 


An  Elopement  121 

no  use.  I  will  go  to-morrow  to  the  sierra  for  my  father's 
horse  and  I  will  come  back  for  you  in  the  night.  He 
is  thin  and  cannot  travel  fast,  so  you  must  come  early 
before  the  moon  sets  or  we  shall  not  have  time  enough  ; 
but  we  must  take  our  chance  as  we  can  get  it.  I  will 
tie  him  away  off  on  the  edge  of  the  mesa,  so  that  there 
will  be  no  horse  tracks  for  them  to  follow  close  here. 
You  must  come  afoot  so  far. ' ' 

"  Stay,  Felipe,"  said  she.  "  I  have  been  thinking. 
Can  you  get  a  saddle — now — to-night  ?  " 

"  I  can  get  one  of  the  American's,"  he  said.  "  He 
has  an  old  one  he  never  uses.  He  would  lend  me  that, 
I  know." 

'  Yes,  but  can  you  go  to  him  to-night,  Felipe  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  answered.  "  I  would  wake  him — he 
does  n't  mind  what  I  do.  But  what  horse  are  you 
thinking  of?  One  of  his?" 

"  No,  no,"  she  cried;  "  I  have  a  better  plan  than 
that.  We  must  take  my  father's  horse.  I  got  the  key 
this  evening  after  he  went  out.  Go  first  and  get  the 
saddle,  and  then  here  is  the  key." 

His  fingers  tightened  eagerly  on  hers.  "  You  dar- 
ling !  "  he  whispered.  "  How  clever  you  are  !  Ten 
times  cleverer  than  I.  Why  did  n't  I  ever  think  of 
that  before  ?  Wait.  I '11  be  back  in  a  moment."  He 
gave  her  hand  one  more  rapturous  pressure,  and  loosing 
it,  darted  off  like  the  wind  to  Stephens' s  house. 

Stephens  was  a  sound  sleeper,  but  in  the  middle  of 
the  night  he  was  waked  by  a  sudden  angry  growl  from 
Faro.  He  opened  his  eyes,  but  it  was  pitch-dark.  A 
low  knock  was  heard  at  the  door.  ' '  Who  is  it  ?  "  he 
cried,  first  in  English,  then  in  Spanish. 

A  voice  answered,  likewise  in  Spanish.  "  Oh,  Don 
Estevan,  it  's  me,  Felipe." 


122  Lone  Pine 

"  Felipe  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Why,  what  the  mischief 
are  you  up  to  now?  But  come  in,  the  door  is  n't  locked." 

He  heard  the  latch  pulled,  and  seized  the  collar  of 
Faro,  who  was  snarling  savagely.  The  door  opened 
and  the  cool  night  air  blew  freshly  in.  A  figure  was 
dimly  seen  in  the  starlight.  Felipe  approached  the 
bed.  "  Oh,  Don  Estevan  !  "  he  began  at  once,  "  do 
be  kind  to  me  ;  lend  me  your  saddle — the  old  saddle, 
not  the  good  one.  You  know  the  old  one  hanging  on 
the  wall  in  there." 

"Why,  what  's  up,  Felipe?"  said  Stephens,  sur- 
prised at  being  roused  by  this  request  in  the  middle  of 
the  night.  "What  do  you  want  with  it?  What 
makes  you  come  bothering  me  now  ?  " 

"  Oh,  please  don't  be  angry,  but  lend  it  me,"  pleaded 
the  boy.  "  I  will  bring  it  you  back,  and  I  know  you 
don't  want  it  ;  you  never  use  it." 

"What  mischief  are  you  after?"  said  Stephens. 
:<  You  want  to  go  off  sweethearting  somewhere — that 's 
what  it  is,  you  young  rascal.  That 's  what  you  wanted 
my  mare  for  to-day.  I  know  what  you  are  up  to." 

"  Oh,  Don  Estevan,"  begged  the  boy, — "  the  saddle, 
please.  If  you  won't  lend  it  to  me,  sell  it  to  me.  I 
have  money, — five  dollars." 

"  Hold  on  till  I  strike  a  light,  and  shut  the  door,  will 
you?"  said  Stephens^  "Lie  down,  Faro,  and  be 
quiet."  The  prospector  got  out  of  bed,  struck  a 
match,  and  lit  a  candle.  "  You  're  a  pretty  sort  of 
fellow,  to  come  roaming  around  this  time  of  night  !  " 
he  went  on  as,  candle  in  hand,  he  stepped  cautiously 
across  the  floor  in  his  bare  feet  to  the  door  of  the  inner 
room,  which  he  unlocked.  "  Sensible  people  are  in 
bed  and  asleep  at  this  time  of  night,"  he  grumbled. 
' '  Come  in  here  and  get  your  saddle. ' ' 


An  Elopement  123 

Felipe  followed  him  instantly  to  the  storeroom  where 
he  kept  his  powder-keg,  mining-tools,  pack-saddles,  and 
provisions. 

' '  There  it  is, ' '  said  Stephens,  pointing  to  an  old 
saddle  hanging  by  one  stirrup  from  a  peg  in  the  wall. 
"  Get  it  down.  And  the  bridle  ;  yes,  that  's  it  " — and 
the  pair  emerged  again  into  the  outer  room. 

Stephens  locked  the  door  again,  and  turning  round 
encountered  Felipe's  hand  with  a  five-dollar  bill  in  it. 
"  Here  it  is,  Don  Kstevan  ;  five  dollars,"  said  the 
young  Indian. 

"Tut,  tut,  I  don't  want  your  money,"  said  the 
American  cheerfully.  "  Keep  it  or  give  to  your  sweet- 
heart to  keep  for  you.  She  '11  do  that  fast  enough  " 
— and  he  chuckled  at  his  own  wit.  "  Now  don't  you 
smash  that  saddle,"  he  continued  ;  "  and  mind  you 
bring  it  back  when  you  've  done  with  it." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Don  Estevan,  a  thousand  times  !  " 
cried  the  young  Indian.  ' '  God  will  reward  you  for  it. ' ' 

"Likely  story,"  growled  his  employer,  "when  I 
guess  it  's  the  devil's  business  you  're  riding  on. 
There,  that  '11  do  ;  be  off  with  you,"  he  added  ;  and  he 
escorted  Felipe,  still  protesting  his  gratitude,  to  the  door. 

As  the  boy  stepped  outside,  Stephens  asked  through 
the  half-shut  door,  "  Who  's  going  to  look  after  my 
stock  to-morrow  ?  ' ' 

"  Oh,  Don  Estevan,  my  brother,  my  little  brother 
Tomas.  He  will  see  to  them.  I  have  told  him." 

"  Much  good  he  '11  be  !  "  retorted  the  'Californian. 
"  Whom  did  I  hire,  him  or  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  me,  Don  Estevan,  but  my  little  brother 
will " 

:<  Yes,  your  little  brother  will  play  the  mischief," 
said  Stephens,  cutting  him  short.  "  I  know  you. 


124  Lone  Pine 

There,  get  along  with  you.  I  'm  tired  of  you," — and 
the  sarcastic  prospector  turned  growling  to  his  blankets 
again.  "  Who  is  she  ?  for  there  's  some  woman  at  the 
bottom  of  it,  as  sure  as  fate,"  said  he  to  himself  as  he 
turned  over  on  his  bed  before  going  to  sleep.  "  One 
of  the  young  squaws  I  suppose.  Felipe  used  to  be  a 
pretty  good  sort  of  a  boy,  but  durn  my  skin  if  I  don't 
believe  he  's  going  to  turn  out  just  as  ornery  as  the 
rest  of  'em.  Who  is  she,  I  wonder,  anyway?"  He 
was  just  dropping  off  to  sleep  when  the  thought  struck 
him,  "  Maybe  he  's  gone  to  the  corral  to  get  the 
mare  !  "  He  half  rose  at  the  idea,  but  lay  down  again, 
soliloquising  slowly,  "  No,  he  never  would  have  come 
here  to  borrow  the  saddle  if  that  had  been  his  game  ; 
he  dursn't.  I  'd  break  every  bone  in  his  confounded 
young  carcass  if  he  dared  do  such  a  thing ' '  ;  and  com- 
forting himself  with  this  hypothetical  revenge,  he 
finally  dropped  asleep. 

With  the  saddle  safely  tucked  into  the  fold  of  his 
blanket,  Felipe  flew  round  the  corner  and  down  the 
street  to  the  back  of  the  cacique's  house.  When  he 
came  to  the  place  he  stooped  down  and  picking  up  a 
tiny  pebble  he  tossed  it  through  the  hole.  Josefa  was 
waiting  inside  and  answered  his  signal  instantly. 

"  Have  you  got  the  saddle  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"  Yes,  yes,  all  right,"  answered  her  lover. 

' '  Here  is  the  key, ' '  said  she  rapidly ;  ' '  take  this  and 
go  to  my  father's  stable  and  get  out  the  horse  and  take 
him  away  outside  the  pueblo  and  tie  him,  and  then 
come  back  for  me.  I  must  n't  risk  being  caught  get- 
ting out  unless  we  are  quite  sure  to  succeed  ;  it  would 
prevent  our  ever  having  another  chance." 

"  Good  !  "  said  Felipe  shortly  ;  and  without  a  mo- 
ment's delay  he  started  off. 


An   Elopement  125 

"  Stop,  Felipe,  stop  an  instant,"  she  whispered. 
"  Don't  tie  him  near  the  corrals  ;  he  '11  neigh  to  Don 
Estevan's  animals." 

"As  if  I  did  n't  know  that  !  "  returned  the  boy 
almost  indignantly,  and  he  turned  again  and  darted 
away.  It  was  all  plain  sailing  now.  How  clever  of 
Josefa  !  How  thoughtful  she  was  ! 

He  reached  the  cacique's  stable,  looked  stealthily 
round  to  be  sure  he  was  not  watched,  and  then  turned 
the  key  in  the  lock  and  entered.  The  horse,  a  noble 
and  intelligent  creature,  was  standing  there  quietly. 
In  a  minute  Felipe  put  the  saddle  on  him  and  brought 
him  out,  locking  the  door  again  behind  him.  He  led 
him  straight  away  from  the  pueblo,  up  along  the 
acequia  ;  a  few  dogs  began  to  bark  at  the  unwonted 
sound  of  hoofs  in  the  night.  He  tied  him  to  a  tree  in 
a  peach  orchard,  and  gave  him  a  handful  of  corn  fodder 
which  he  had  brought  from  the  stable  to  keep  him 
quiet.  Then  he  flew  back  to  the  village. 

"  All  right,  Josefa,  come  !     I  have  him  tied  ready,"' 
he  whispered. 

The  little  hand  met  his  once  again  through  the  hole 
in  the  wall,  and  he  pressed  it.     It  trembled  in  his  clasp. 
'  You  will  always  be  good  to  me,  always  ?  ' '  she  said. 
' '  I  shall  have  nobody  but  you  now. ' ' 
-  "  Yes,  I  swear  it,  my  heart's  joy,  I  swear  it  !  "  he 
cried  earnestly.      "  But  come,  come   quick  !  "      The 
clasped  hands  unlocked,  and  the  Indian  boy  sank  down 
once  more  to  wait  ;    this  was  to  be  the  end  of  his 
waiting. 

It  was  not  for  long.  Three  minutes  later,  a  head 
peeped  over  the  edge  of  the  terrace  above  him,  and  in 
a  moment  more  Josefa  dropped  into  her  lover's  arms. 
One  long  kiss,  one  long,  rapturous  embrace,  was  all 


126  Lone  Pine 

they  dared  delay  for  ;  and  then  without  a  word,  hand 
in  hand  and  side  by  side,  they  fled  with  stealthy  steps 
up  the  street. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  fact  of  a  woman's  being  abroad  at 
that  hour  of  the  night  that  excited  the  suspicions  of  the 
dogs  ;  but  whatever  it  was,  the  whole  hundred-and-odd 
of  them  belonging  to  the  pueblo  seemed  to  begin  to 
bark  just  then.  The  clamour  brought  one  or  two 
Indians  to  their  doors,  but  they  saw  nothing  ;  the 
lovers  had  already  disappeared. 

Up  along  the  acequia  they  ran.  They  reached  the 
peach  orchard.  The  horse  was  there  all  right.  Felipe 
bridled  him  in  a  moment  and  then  sprang  across  the 
acequia  with  the  lariat  in  his  hand.  He  pulled  at  the 
rope,  but  the  horse  refused  to  follow.  "  Hit  him, 
Josefa,"  said  he  to  the  girl,  "  hit  him."  She  shook 
the  fold  of  her  blanket  at  the  animal,  and  with  a  snort 
he  sprang  across  after  Felipe.  She  bounded  over 
lightly  and  stood  beside  him. 

He  lifted  her  to  the  saddle  and  vaulted  on  to  the 
croup  behind  her.  He  slipped  his  arms  round  her 
waist,  both  to  hold  her  securely  and  to  grasp  the  reins, 
and  striking  the  horse's  sides  with  his  feet,  he  urged 
him  forward.  The  noble  creature  made  nothing  of  his 
double  burden,  and  bounded  forward. 

"  It  's  no  use  trying  to  dodge,"  said  he  as  he  guided 
the  animal  straight  towards  the  trail  that  led  to  the  Rio 
Grande.  "  They  '11  track  us  anywhere  to-morrow  ; 
but  they  can't  see  to  trail  before  daylight,  and  by  that 
time  we  must  be  at  Ensenada." 

"  Hark  to  those  dogs,"  said  she,  as  the  chorus  of 
barkings  from  the  village  rose  and  fell  upon  the  night 
wind. 

"  Never  mind  ;  we  're  off  now,"  said  he,  holding  her 


An  Elopement  127 

closer  to  him.  "The  dogs  are  always  barking  any- 
how. They  '11  think  it  's  only  some  Mexican  going 
down  the  valley.  Why,  if  they  did  wake  up  and  miss 
us  now,  they  must  wait  till  morning  to  know  which 
way  we'  ve  gone,  so  don't  you  be  frightened,  sweet- 
heart." 

They  struck  into  the  trail  at  last — a  well-marked 
bridle-path,  which  led  across  the  mesas.  There  was 
no  fear  of  their  missing  it,  dark  as  it  was  after  the 
moon  had  set,  for  both  the  horse  and  his  rider  knew 
the  trail  well  enough.  On  they  pushed,  on,  on,  the 
keen  night  wind  from  the  east  blowing  freshly  in  their 
faces,  and  causing  them  to  fold  their  blankets  more 
closely  to  them.  The  stout  little  Indian  horse  was  used 
to  carrying  double,  as  indeed  most  horses  in  those 
parts  are,  and  he  travelled  onward  without  flinching 
or  staggering  under  his  burden,  cantering  where  the 
ground  was  not  too  rough,  and  picking  his  way  with 
wonderful  sure-footedness  up  and  down  the  steep  sides 
of  the  ravines,  which  here  and  there  intersected  the 
broad  table-lands. 

Felipe  had  to  tell  Josefa  of  his  vain  attempts  to  bor- 
row the  mare  of  the  American,  and  he  gave  her  a 
laughing  description  of  the  way  in  which  he  had  roused 
him  at  midnight  to  borrow  the  saddle.  "  I  'm  glad, 
though,  he  did  n't  take  the  five  dollars  from  me,"  said 
the  boy.  "  Perhaps  I  should  not  have  had  money 
enough  left  for  the  padre  if  he  had." 

"  But  you  have  enough  ?  "  inquired  Josefa  eagerly. 
' '  How  much  have  you  ?  ' ' 

' '  Oh,  I  have  fifteen  dollars, ' '  replied  he.  ' '  I  have 
saved  my  wages,  every  cent,  since  Don  Estevan  came 
here  last  autumn,  and  my  father  let  me  keep  half. 
Fifteen  dollars  is  more  than  enough.  It  is  only  the 


128  Lone  Pine 

rich  people  who  pay  twenty  and  twenty-five  dollars. 
Why,  lots  of  poor  people  pay  only  ten.  I  am  sure  we 
are  poor  enough." 

"  I  am  afraid  we  are  indeed,"  sighed  she  sadly. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  he  cheerfully,  trying  to  keep  up 
her  spirits,  which  were  failing  somewhat  at  the  strange- 
ness of  this  lonely  ride  over  lands  unknown  to  her, 
under  the  immense  vault  of  night.  ' '  Never  mind  that. 
Why,  I  have  sown  six  bushels  of  wheat  more  than  last 
year,  and  I  am  going  to  put  in  plenty  of  corn  too. 
There  is  plenty  of  land,  and  if  we  have  not  enough  the 
head  Turquoises  must  give  us  some  more.  There  is 
lots  of  water  now  in  the  ditch  to  sow  a  thousand 
bushels  more  than  we  used  to. ' ' 

"Yes,"  said  Josefa  thoughtfully.  "I  know  how 
hard  you  have  worked,  dear  Felipe,  and  that  you  will 
not  be  slack  now,  but  are  you  quite  sure  of  your 
father  ?  Will  he  not  turn  us  out  ?  ' ' 

"  How  can  he?"  said  the  boy  scornfully.  "  You 
know  he  is  too  poor  to  hire  anyone  to  work  for  him. 
He  cannot  do  without  me.  He  is  getting  old  and  can- 
not put  in  a  crop  by  himself,  and  Tomas  is  too  young 
to  be  much  good.  It  is  I  who  do  the  work  on  the  land. 
You  know,  Josefa,  I  would  work  ten  times  harder  for 
you,"  and  he  pressed  her  closer  to  him  again. 

"  Yes,  yes,  Felipe,"  she  cried,  "  I  know  that.  I  am 
sure  of  that.  I  never  could  have  trusted  you  so  if  I  had 
not  known  you  were  good  at  home.  But,  Felipe  dear, 
if  they  are  cross  to  me  at  your  house  I  shall  hate  it." 

"  They  sha'n't  be  cross  to  you,"  he  cried  hotly.  "  I 
am  a  man  now,  and  they  must  listen  to  me.  If  I  sup- 
port them  they  must  do  what  I  say — at  least  some- 
times," he  added,  correcting  himself.  "  Besides,  my 
mother  loves  me,  and  when  she  sees  how  I  love  you, 


An  Elopement  129 

and  how  you  are  all  the  world  to  me,  she  will  love  you 
too  ;  I  know  she  will." 

"  Ah,  perhaps  not,  Felipe,"  said  the  girl  doubtfully. 
"  You  talk  like  a  man.  Women  are  not  always  like 
that,  you  know." 

"  But  she  will;  she  must,"  said  Felipe  decidedly. 
He  had  a  comfortable  masculine  conviction  that  wo- 
men's feelings  were  something  that  could  always  be 
put  down  or  got  round.  He  felt  that  he  was  acting  a 
man's  part  now,  and  that  it  was  time  for  him  to  assert 
himself.  How  could  he  feel  otherwise  with  his  arms 
round  his  sweetheart's  waist,  with  the  free  sky  above 
them  and  the  broad  mesas  around,  fifteen  dollars  in  his 
pocket  to  pay  the  padre,  and  a  good  horse  (he  did  not 
stop  to  think  whose)  to  carry  them  to  Bnsenada !  For 
the  first  time  in  his  life  he  felt  himself  a  man  and  free. 
They  had  left  behind  them  the  village  with  its  narrow, 
cramping  laws  and  customs,  its  parental  tyrannies, 
and  its  hateful  distinction  of  rich  and  poor.  To 
Felipe,  Ignacio  with  thirty  cows  was  an  odious  mon- 
opolist. How  delightful  it  was  to  have  hoodwinked 
the  watchful  guardian  of  Josefa  and  baffled  his  miserly 
rival ! 

While  the  fugitives  thus  sped  onward  through  the 
night,  peace  once  more  reigned  supreme  over  the 
pueblo.  The  barking  of  the  dogs  at  their  departure 
had  soon  ceased,  and  no  one  took  the  trouble  to  inquire 
seriously  into  the  source  of  their  wrath.  They  might 
have  been  barking  at  a  hungry  coyote,  come  to  explore 
the  heaps  of  household  refuse  deposited  day  by  day 
outside  the  village  by  the  tidy  squaws,  or  at  some  be- 
lated Mexican  passing  up  or  down  the  valley,  or  even 
at  some  stray  donkey  escaped  from  his  owner's  corral. 
At  any  rate,  no  one  cared  enough  to  prosecute  his  in- 


130  Lone   Pine 

quiries,  and  no  movement  was  perceptible  in  the  village 
till  the  first  grey  dawn. 

Dawn  caught  the  lovers  descending  the  long  hill  that 
leads  from  the  mesas  down  to  the  wide  flats  of  the  Rio 
Grande  valley.  The  light  was  too  dim  as  yet  to  do 
more  than  show  vaguely  the  broad  line  of  the  wooded 
banks  of  the  river,  still  some  distance  ahead  of  them. 
The  sun  rose  as  they  were  pushing  across  the  sandy 
flats  and  passing  through  the  poverty-stricken  hovels 
of  the  Mexican  village  of  I/a  Boca,  past  a  surprised- 
looking,  unkempt  peon,  who  blinked  drowsily  at  the 
couple  from  his  doorway.  On  they  pressed  and  still 
onward,  making  for  the  point  where  the  road  forded 
the  river. 

But  what  roar  was  this  that  met  their  ears  as  they 
neared  the  grove  of  cottonwood  trees  through  which 
the  road  to  the  ford  ran, — a  dull  strong  roar  as  of  the 
rushing  of  many  waters  ?  Felipe  recognised  it,  and  on 
the  instant  his  heart  felt  like  lead  in  his  breast. 

' '  Valgame  Dios,  Josefa  !  ' '  said  he,  ' '  I  believe  the 
river  is  up.  Oh  !  what  luck  !  what  luck  ! ' ' 


CHAPTER  XI 

MY  DUCATS   AND   MY   DAUGHTER 

THE  grey  dawn  that  awoke  the  household  of  the 
cacique  did  so  to  some  purpose.  ' '  Josefa, ' ' 
called  the  step-mother  as  she  arose,  "  Josefa  " — but  no 
answer  came.  "  Why,  where  can  she  be  ?  "  exclaimed 
the  Indian  woman,  looking  round  and  calling  her  other 
daughters.  Salvador  himself  rushed  into  the  inner 
room  to  look  for  her.  In  a  moment  he  sprang  out 
again. 

"She  has  gone!"  he  shouted.  "She  has  got 
through  the  trap-door  and  escaped.  Oh,  the  wretch  !  " 

"  Where  can  she  be  ?  "  wondered  his  wife  helplessly. 

' '  Where  can  she  be  ?  "  he  echoed  scornfully.  ' '  Why, 
with  that  pauper  scoundrel  of  a  Felipe.  I  know  her. 
Oh,  I  '11  make  her  pay  for  this  !  " 

He  seized  his  revolver  and  slipped  his  belt  through 
the  loop  of  its  case,  and  grasping  a  horsewhip  he  darted 
from  the  house.  The  rest  of  the  family  followed  him 
somewhat  timidly,  anxious  to  see  what  was  going  to 
happen,  wishing,  perhaps,  that  he  would  punish  her  a 
little  for  not  being  so  good  and  steady  as  they  were, 
hoping,  too,  to  intervene  and  save  her  from  the  ex- 
tremity of  his  passion,  for  they  knew  how  pitiless  he 
was  when  roused. 

The  cacique  flew  straight  to  Atanacio's  dwelling,  and 
131 


132  Lone  Pine 

thrusting  the  door  open  burst  rudely  into  the  apart- 
ment. 

' '  Where  is  Felipe  ?  Where  is  my  daughter  ?  ' ' 
shouted  he  in  tones  of  fury. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  don't  know  anything  about  it," 
said  the  old  man  humbly.  "  Is  n't  your  daughter  at 
home?  Perhaps  she  is  over  at  Sahwaquiu's."  Sah- 
waquiu  was  Josefa's  uncle,  her  own  mother's  brother, 
and  Josefa  was  a  pet  of  his. 

"Where's  Felipe,  I  ask  you?  Answer  me,  you 
old  reprobate  !  ' '  roared  the  angry  cacique. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  old  man  again,  in  the 
humblest  tones.  "  I  have  not  seen  him.  He  was 
here  last  night  when  we  lay  down,  but  he  got  up  and 
went  out.  I  don't  know  where  he  is." 

"  He  's  run  off  with  my  daughter,  that  's  where  he 
is,"  shouted  the  indignant  parent  ;  "  and  I  believe 
you  know  about  it  too,"  he  added,  threatening  the  old 
man  with  his  whip.  ' '  You  had  better  say  what  you 
know,  or  I  '11  make  you." 

He  was  a  thick-set,  muscular  man,  and  looked  well 
able  to  carry  out  his  threat,  as  he  stood  over  old  Atana- 
cio,  who  remained  passive,  seated  on  a  sheep  skin  near 
the  hearth,  neither  attempting  to  defend  himself  nor 
to  escape.  The  cacique's  black  eyes  flashed  fury,  and 
his  coarse  features  worked  with  passion,  as  with  taunts 
and  threats  he  cowed  the  helpless  being  before  him. 

But  meanwhile  the  news  of  the  elopement  had  spread, 
and  the  Indians  were  buzzing  about  their  village  like 
a  swarm  of  bees  round  the  hive.  Up  dashed  one  of  the 
younger  men  with  news.  "Cacique,  Cacique,"  he 
cried,  ' '  the  stable !  Your  horse  has  gone,  but  the  stable 
is  locked.  His  tracks  go  all  up  by  the  acequia  "  ;  and 
he  pointed  to  where  two  Indians,  with  their  heads  bent 


My  Ducats  and  my  Daughter         133 

low  almost  to  the  ground,  were  busily  questing  from 
side  to  side  like  sleuth-hounds  on  a  scent. 

"  Oh,  the  villain  !  "  roared  Salvador.  "  He  's  got 
my  horse.  He  shall  be  hanged."  And  he  ran  first 
of  all  to  the  stable  to  satisfy  himself  by  seeing  with  his 
own  eyes  what  had  happened. 

It  was  true.  The  stable  was  locked,  but  the  steed 
was  stolen,  as  could  be  seen  by  lying  down  and  peeping 
under  the  door.  The  cacique  got  up  with  his  white 
shirt  and  buckskins  all  dusty  from  the  ground,  and 
turning  to  the  crowd  called  out : 

"  Here,  get  me  a  horse,  some  of  you — Tito,  Miguel, 
Alejandro.  Go  get  me  the  mare  of  the  Americano, 
and  mount  yourselves,  too."  And  he  himself  started 
out  towards  the  acequia  to  look  at  the  tracks.  Several 
Indians  ran  towards  the  corrals. 

'  The  saddle, ' '  said  one ;  ' '  we  want  a  saddle  ;  go 
get  yours,  Alejandro.  You  live  nearest." 

"  Had  n't  we  better  tell  the  Americano,"  said  Tito, 
"  before  we  take  his  mare  ?  Maybe  he  won't  like  to 
lend  her." 

' '  But  he  must  lend  her, ' '  retorted  Miguel  impatiently. 
"  The  cacique  wants  her.  Is  n't  that  enough  ?  " 

By  this  time  they  had  arrived  at  the  bars  of  the  corral 
where  the  prospector  kept  his  stock,  and  they  stopped 
to  wait  for  Alejandro  to  bring  the  saddle.  Tito  took 
advantage  of  the  delay  to  act  on  his  own  motion,  and 
darting  over  to  the  door  of  Stephens' s  dwelling  began 
to  knock  vigorously. 

"  Hullo  !  who  's  there  ?  "  called  out  Stephens  in  re- 
sponse to  the  knocking.  He  was  still  between  the 
blankets,  and  had  not  yet  turned  out. 

' '  The  cacique  wants  your  mare, ' '  cried  Tito  through 
the  keyhole. 


134  Lone  Pine 

"  Wants  my  what  ?  "  exclaimed  Stephens,  who  failed 
to  catch  his  words  exactly.  "  Open  the  door,  can't 
you,  and  let  me  hear  what  you  've  got  to  say,"  he 
added,  sitting  up  in  bed. 

Tito  held  the  door  ajar  and  put  half  his  face  into  the 
aperture.  He  had  a  wholesome  respect  for  Faro  and 
did  not  care  to  adventure  farther. 

"  The  cacique  wants  to  take  your  mare  to  ride,  to  go 
after  his  daughter,"  he  explained. 

"  Well,  he  can't  have  her,  that  's  all  about  it,"  said 
Stephens,  getting  out  of  bed  and  beginning  to  put  on 
his  moccasins.  He  had  adopted  the  Indian  foot-cover- 
ing as  more  comfortable  as  well  as  more  economical 
than  boots.  "Just  tell  him,"  he  continued,  "that 
I  'm  not  lending  horses  just  now.  When  I  am  I  '11  let 
him  know.  But  why  can't  he  take  his  own  ?  " 

"  He  has  n't  got  it.  It  's  gone,"  said  Tito,  at  the 
same  time  signalling  with  the  half  of  him  outside  the 
doorway  to  Miguel  not  to  take  the  mare.  "  It  'sgone. 
Felipe  's  run  away  with  the  cacique's  horse  and  his 
daughter. ' ' 

' '  The  dickens  he  has  !  ' '  said  Stephens.  ' '  When 
did  he  do  that  ?  "  As  he  spoke  he  recollected  Felipe's 
midnight  visit  to  him  for  the  purpose  of  borrowing  the 
saddle,  and  a  light  dawned  on  him.  But  under  the 
circumstances  it  seemed  better  to  say  nothing  about 
the  matter. 

He  put  on  his  hat  and  came  to  the  door.  Tito 
volubly  expounded  all  he  knew  of  the  story.  Presently 
Salvador  himself  came  bustling  up  from  the  acequia, 
whip  in  hand  and  revolver  on  hip. 

' '  Looks  considerable  on  the  war-path, ' '  said  the  pro- 
spector to  himself.  "  Wonder  what  he  means  to  do 
about  it." 


My  Ducats  and  my  Daughter         135 

"  Here,"  said  the  cacique  in  a  loud  voice  to  the  In- 
dians round,  "where  's  the  horse?  why  is  n't  it 
saddled?" 

Stephens  stood  leaning  carelessly  against  the  door- 
post, but  took  no  notice  of  his  speech.  There  was 
silence  for  a  moment,  and  then  Tito  said  in  a  apologetic 
tone,  "  Don  Estevan  says  he  does  n't  want  to  lend 
her." 

' '  Oh,  nonsense  !  ' '  said  the  cacique  ;  and  then  turn- 
ing to  the  American  and  mastering  his  passion  as  well 
as  he  could,  he  said,  "  L,end  me  your  mare,  Don 
Estevan." 

"  I  can't  do  it,  Salvador,"  said  the  prospector  de- 
liberately. "  I  want  to  go  to  the  sierra  to-day." 

"  Oh,  the  sierra  !  "  said  the  cacique  impatiently. 
'  That  will  do  to-morrow.  My  daughter  is  gone  and 
my  horse  is  gone  and  there  's  nothing  else  to  go  after 
them  on.  You  must  lend  yours  for  once." 

"  Not  to  be  ridden  to  death  after  them,  "  said  Ste- 
phens. "  Why,  they  're  leagues  away  by  this  time. 
You  '11  have  to  ride  like  the  very  mischief  to  catch 
them."  There  was  an  accent  of  contempt  in  his  voice 
which  infuriated  the  Indian.  Stephens  valued  the 
mare,  which  he  had  brought  with  him  from  Denver, 
above  all  earthly  things,  and  the  idea  of  letting  an 
Indian  ride  her  near  to  death  in  a  long,  stern  chase 
seemed  to  him  the  blankest  absurdity.  ' '  Why,  I 
would  n't  do  it  for  my  own  brother  !  "  he  went  on. 
'  You  can't  have  her,  Cacique,  and  that  's  flat." 

"  But  I  must,"  said  the  Indian,  enraged  at  an  oppo- 
sition he  had  not  expected.  "  I  must  and  I  will. 
What  's  a  horse  for  but  to  ride  ?  "  He  turned  to  the 
crowd  of  Indians  behind  him,  and  called  out,  "  Saddle 
her  up,  will  you,  quick ! ' ' 


136  Lone  Pine 

Two  or  three  began  instantly  to  run  towards  the  cor- 
ral, and  the  rest  were  starting  to  follow  when  the  loud, 
clear  voice  of  the  prospector  arrested  their  movement. 

"  Stop  right  there  !  "  were  his  words.  "  You  do  no 
such  thing.  If  anyone  touches  my  stock  without  my 
leave  I  '11  shoot  him." 

The  Indians  stopped. 

"  I  '11  drive  you  out  of  here,  you  Americano,"  said 
the  angry  cacique,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  butt  of  his 
revolver  and  advancing  directly  towards  Stephens, 
who  was  of  course  quite  unarmed. 

"  Drive  away  then,  and  be  d — d  to  you,"  returned 
the  American.  "I  've  hired  these  rooms  from  old 
Reyna  till  the  end  of  April,  and  I  sha'n't  budge  be- 
fore. ' '  And  his  eyes  flashed  back  defiance. 

Salvador  kept  advancing  in  a  threatening  manner, 
and  the  younger  Indian  men,  of  whom  there  were 
thirty  or  forty  on  the  spot,  closed  up  behind  their 
leader  ;  they  half  felt  that  he  was  wrong,  but  still  he 
was  their  chosen  cacique. 

Stephens  stood  his  ground,  and  faced  the  mob  with 
dauntless  coolness.  An  odd  thing  struck  him.  He 
knew  them  all  personally  quite  well,  but  now  he  hardly 
seemed  to  recognise  them.  The  expression  of  their 
faces,  usually  so  peaceful,  was  entirely  altered.  It 
gave  him  quite  a  turn  to  think  that  people  who  had 
crowded  round  him  so  full  of  fun,  and  so  eager  to  show 
their  friendship  and  gratitude  only  the  day  before, 
should  change  so  quickly  to  a  cruel  mob.  Yesterday's 
momentary  outburst  of  suspicion  excited  by  the  dreaded 
charge  of  witchcraft  had  revealed  to  him  the  explosive 
forces  that  lay  hidden  under  their  quiet  exterior,  but 
that  had  been  dissipated  by  his  own  prompt  repudiation 
of  the  charge,  and  by  the  cacique's  influence.  Now 


My  Ducats  and  my  Daughter        137 

it  was  the  cacique  himself  who  was  assailing  him,  and 
there  was  none  to  help,  nor  hope  of  anyone.  A  hun- 
dred black,  flashing  eyes  were  fixed  on  him  with  an  an- 
gry glare.  He  felt  as  if  he  were  shut  up  in  a  den  of  wild 
beasts.  He  was  quite  alone ;  the  new  storekeeper  at  San 
Remo  was  the  only  other  American  within  sixty  miles. 

"  Take  your  hand  off  that  pistol,  Salvador,"  said  he 
quietly.  '  You  can't  scare  me,  so  don't  you  try  it  on." 

The  Indian  stopped,  but  his  hand  plucked  nervously 
at  the  hilt  of  the  weapon.  Stephens  observed  his 
opponent's  indecision,  and  continued:  "  A  pretty  lot 
of  fellows  you  are,  to  come  crowding  round  me  as  you 
did  yesterday,  and  call  me  your  best  friend,  and  say 
how  you  '11  sing  my  praises  to  the  third  generation, 
and  now  this  morning  you  're  ready  to  cut  my  throat 
before  breakfast,  all  about  nothing  !  I  've  heard  of  the 
gratitude  of  Indians  before  now,"  he  continued,  "  but 
this  beats  all." 

The  Indians  visibly  winced  at  this  taunt,  the  justice 
of  which  they  could  not  but  acknowledge,  and  began  to 
interchange  rapid  words  in  their  own  language,  thereby 
making  themselves  unintelligible  to  Stephens. 

Just  at  this  moment  came  a  most  welcome  diversion. 
Round  the  corner  dashed  Miguel  full  charge  on  a  fiery 
steed.  The  Indians  scattered  right  and  left  before  him. 
With  a  jerk  on  the  terrible  Spanish  bit  he  set  the  horse 
on  his  haunches,  and  as  he  sprang  to  the  ground  he 
cried,  "  Here,  Cacique  !  Here  's  the  horse  of  the  new 
storekeeper  at  San  Remo.  I  've  got  him  for  you." 

Salvador  never  spoke,  but  seizing  the  rein  offered 
him  by  Miguel  he  sprang  to  the  saddle,  turned  his  back 
on  Stephens  and  the  crowd,  and  dashed  wildly  forwards 
to  the  trail. 

All  eyes  were  bent  on  his  rapid  course.     The  trackers 


138  Lone  Pine 

on  foot  had  already  traced  the  hoof-marks  from  the 
acequia  across  to  the  Ensenada  trail,  and  were  running 
half  a  mile  off  like  hounds  in  full  cry.  In  less  than 
two  minutes  the  galloping  horseman  overtook  them, 
and  cantered  alongside  to  hear  what  they  had  to  tell. 
They  reported  that  the  tracks  were  several  hours  old 
and  that  the  horse  carried  double. 

"  I  could  have  told  you  that,"  said  Salvador,  as  he 
plied  the  whip  freshly,  and  galloping  ahead  disappeared 
in  the  direction  of  the  mesas  from  the  sight  of  those 
who  were  watching  him. 

"  Wonder  what  he  '11  do  if  he  catches  Felipe  !  "  said 
Stephens  to  himself  as  he  saw  him  vanish  over  the 
hills.  "  That  young  man  '11  have  to  look  out  for  him- 
self, as  sure  as  he  's  a  foot  high.  Rather  lucky  for 
me,"  he  ruminated,  turning  to  go  in,  "  that  chap 
Miguel's  coming  up  with  Backus' s  horse  !  I  wonder, 
by  the  way,  how  he  came  to  get  him.  I  don't  know 
what  I  should  have  done  if  Mr.  Salvador  had  gone  for 
me  with  that  six-shooter,  and  he  was  just  about  mad 
enough  to  try  it  on.  Blamed  if  it  was  n't  the  suddenest 
scare  I  ever  did  get  let  in  for  !  Why,  hallo,  Faro,  old 
man,"  said  he  aloud,  on  finding  the  dog  at  his  heels, 
"  what  's  up  with  you  ?  I  don't  often  see  you  out  of 
the  blankets  before  breakfast.  Blamed  if  I  don't  be- 
lieve you  heard  me  a-talkin'  to  them  fellers  and  just 
come  out  to  take  a  hand!  "  He  was  right.  The  dog's 
quick  ear  had  caught  the  note  of  danger  in  his  master's 
voice,  and  he  had  flown  to  his  assistance. 

Stephens  took  another  look  at  the  Indians  around. 
Some  were  still  watching  the  mesas  ;  others  were  going 
about  their  daily  business.  It  seemed  as  if  those  who 
knew  him  best  kept  aloof,  feeling  ashamed  to  come  up 
and  speak  to  him.  However,  an  old  man  whom  he 


My   Ducats  and  my  Daughter        139 

hardly  knew,  and  who  spoke  Spanish  badly,  approached 
him  in  an  apologetic  sort  of  way,  and  said,  ' '  Salvador 
very  angry  !  " 

"  Well,"  answered  Stephens,  with  a  grim  laugh,  "  I 
should  think  he  's  gone  mad." 

' '  Yes,  mad,  silly, ' '  assented  the  old  man  ;  "for  why 
get  angry  ?  No  good,  no  good," — and  he  stood  there 
wagging  his  old  head  and  saying  "  no  good  "  in  a  way 
that  the  prospector  quite  understood  to  be  intended  for 
an  amende  honorable  on  the  part  of  his  fellows. 

Nor  was  he  the  only  one.  "  Sefior  Americano," 
said  a  cracked  voice  close  beside  him,  and  Stephens 
felt  a  light  touch  on  his  elbow.  He  turned  and  found 
himself  face  to  face  with  Reyna,  the  Turquoise  squaw 
from  whom  he  rented  his  rooms.  She  and  her  husband 
lived  next  door  to  him,  and  from  her  he  often  bought 
eggs  and  meal.  She  of  course  had  been  a  witness  of 
the  whole  affair.  She  now  produced  two  eggs,  and 
holding  them  out  to  him  said,  "  See,  two." 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  said  Stephens,  "  but  I  don't  want  'em 
to-day.  Have  n't  got  the  five  cents." 

"  No,  no  !  "  she  cried.     "  No  money — two." 

Her  Spanish  was  weaker  even  than  the  old  man's. 
Stephens  turned  to  him.  "What  does  she  mean?" 
he  asked.  "  I  can't  make  out  what  she  's  up  to." 

The  two  Indians  exchanged  some  words  in  their  own 
language. 

"  She  means,  your  honour,"  said  the  old  Indian  man, 
speaking  with  painful  elaboration,  "  that  this  is  for  the 
gratitude  of  the  Indians.  Excuse  her,  your  honour, 
she  does  not  speak  much  in  Spanish — that  is,  not  like 
us,  the  men  " — he  added  explanatorily,  "  but  she  can 
understand,  and  she  heard  you  say  the  Indians  got  no 
gratitude,  and  this  is  for  her. ' ' 


140  Lone  Pine 

Stephens  turned  to  the  old  squaw  and  took  the  eggs, 
thanking  her  as  well  as  he  knew  how.  "  And  I  'm 
going  now  to  cook  them  for  breakfast,"  said  he,  as  he 
went  back  to  his  room. 

"  Well,  who  'd  have  thought  that  ?  "  he  said  to  him- 
self, as  he  began  to  whittle  shavings  from  a  piece  of  fat 
pine  to  light  his  fire  with.  "  They  're  a  queer  lot, 
Indians  are,  but  I  suppose  it  takes  all  sorts  of  people  to 
make  a  world."  His  thoughts  wandered  back  to  Sal- 
vador and  the  fugitives.  "  Wonder  what  Salvador  '11 
do,"  he  said  half  aloud.  "  He  's  mad  enough  to  kill 
the  boy,  if  he  gets  close  enough.  Blamed  if  I  don't 
think  he  was  about  mad  enough  to  kill  me  !  He  's  real 
ugly  when  he  's  mad,  and  it  's  no  foolin'  when  it  comes 
to  six-shooters. ' '  He  went  over  the  scene  of  the  early 
dawn  again  in  his  mind.  ' '  It  does  beat  cock-fightin' , ' ' 
he  continued  to  himself,  "  how  folks  like  these  Indians, 
that 's  as  quiet  and  decent  and  orderly  as  can  be,  should 
flare  up  all  in  a  moment  and  glare  at  you  like  a  lot  of 
wildcats,  and  all  for  nothing.  Why,  if  I  'd  gone  and 
killed  somebody,  or  run  off  with  somebody's  wife, 
there  'd  be  some  sense  in  it,  but  to  burst  out  just  be- 
cause I  would  n't  lend  my  mare  to  be  rode  plumb  to 
death  !  It  does  beat  all." 

The  fire  now  burned  up  brightly,  and  after  setting 
the  coffee-pot  on  to  boil  he  filled  the  nose-bags  himself, 
and  went  out  to  feed  his  stock.  "  Confound  that  boy, 
running  off  like  this,"  he  grumbled,  "  and  leaving  me 
this  job  !  Told  his  little  brother  Tomas,  indeed  !  I 
don't  see  him  around  yet ;  not  much  ;  don't  expect  to 
neither." 

He  leaned  up  against  the  fence  waiting  while  the 
stock  ate  their  feed.  Someone  must  keep  watch  in 
order  to  drive  off  the  hungry  Indian  pigs,  who  prowled 


My  Ducats  and  my  Daughter        141 

around  and  would  have  disputed  their  corn  with  the 
horses.  The  sun  had  just  risen,  and  his  level  rays  lit 
up  like  a  flame  the  red  cliffs  crowned  with  dark  pines, 
which  formed  the  western  side  of  the  valley.  But 
Stephens  did  not  see  them.  He  was  facing  east,  with 
the  sunlight  full  in  his  face,  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
bare,  flat-topped  table-lands  which  divided  the  Santiago 
valley  from  the  Rio  Grande.  "  Confound  him  !  "  he 
growled  again.  "  What  a  fool  trick  for  him  to  play  ! 
I  'm  mighty  glad  it  is  n't  my  mare  he  's  playing  it  on. 
He  '11  find  himself  in  a  muss,  too,  if  he  don't  mind  out, 
sure.  I  don't  more  than  half  like  the  notion  of  that 
ugly  savage  of  a  cacique  getting  after  him  with  a  six- 
shooter.  ' ' 

He  waited  till  the  stock  had  finished  feeding,  and 
then  went  back  to  his  rooms.  But  he  decided  not  to 
start  for  the  sierra  till  the  next  day.  "  Confound  the 
boy  !  "  said  he  the  third  time.  "  I  can't  take  that 
little  fool,  Tomas,  and  I  want  somebody  to  help  me  dry 
the  meat  and  pack  it  down.  Why  the  dickens  could  n't 
he  run  off  some  other  time  !  He  want  a  wife  !  He 
wants  a  nurse  and  a  birch  rod,  I  should  say." 

Thoroughly  vexed,  he  prepared  to  put  in  the  rest  of 
his  morning,  or  at  least  as  much  of  it  as  he  could  spare 
from  swearing  at  Felipe's  escapade,  in  fixing  up  pack- 
saddles,  mending  his  tent,  cleaning  his  beloved  repeat- 
ing rifle,  and  generally  getting  ready  for  the  trip  he  so 
unwillingly  postponed. 

But  his  plans  for  the  day  were  destined  to  be  inter- 
fered with  for  the  second  time.  The  inquisitive  face 
of  Mr.  Backus  appeared  suddenly  in  the  open  door. 

"  Mornin',  Mr.  Stephens,"  he  began  ;  "  can  I  come 
in  ?  So  this  is  where  you  live  when  you  're  at  home." 
He  dragged  a  heavy  saddle  across  the  threshold  and 


142  Lone  Pine 

took  a  seat.  "  I  told  you  I  would  n't  be  long  before 
comin'  up  to  take  a  squint  at  your  white  squaw." 

"  She  's  no  squaw  of  mine,  Mr.  Backus,"  said  Ste- 
phens with  rising  anger.  "  I  think  I  told  you  so 
already.  And  if  you  want  to  see  her  you  can't,  for  it 
so  happens  that  she  has  just  eloped."  He  turned  his 
back  on  the  storekeeper,  kneeling  down  to  arrange  his 
pack-cinches  with  a  preoccupied  air. 

"  Oh,"  returned  the  other,  "  is  that  it?  I  did  n't 
tumble  to  it  that  she  was  the  one  who  had  bolted." 
His  eye  wandered  around  Stephens's  modest  abode, 
taking  in  every  detail,  as  he  tried  to  gratify  his  curi- 
osity concerning  the  prospector's  domestic  arrange- 
ments. It  seemed  to  him  an  incredible  thing  that  a 
man  should  settle  down  like  this  among  the  Indians 
and  not  provide  himself  with  at  least  a  temporary  wife. 
But  in  these  bachelor's  quarters  there  was  no  sign  of 
feminine  occupation,  temporary  or  permanent.  The 
one  novelty  that  puzzled  him  was  the  neatly  built  as- 
saying furnace,  which  he  at  first  took  for  a  new  sort  of 
bread  oven,  until  he  detected  the  parcels  of  ore  beside 
it  and  its  true  nature  dawned  upon  him.  But  post- 
poning the  idea  of  asking  questions  about  it  for  the 
present,  he  went  babbling  on:  "  And  here  I  've  been 
and  loaned  my  horse  to  a  chief  to  go  chasing  after  her 
upon,  and  left  myself  afoot.  Guess  I  '11  have  to  try 
and  borrow  that  mule  of  yourn  to  get  back  to  San 
Remo  on."  Stephens's  face  at  this  suggestion  became 
the  picture  of  disgust.  "  Say,  though,"  he  went  on, 
"  I  was  forgetting.  You  're  badly  wanted  down  there. 
I  come  up  partly  just  to  tell  you  that.  Don  Nepomu- 
ceno  is  in  a  mighty  awkward  fix.  What  do  you  think 
that  son  of  his,  Andres,  has  been  up  to  ?  You  '11  never 
guess  in  a  month  of  Sundays.  He  's  bin  and  had  a 


My  Ducats  and  my  Daughter        143 

fuss  with  a  Navajo  up  yonder  in  the  mountains  over  a 
game  of  cards,  and  killed  him,  and  half  burned  the 
body  in  the  camp-fire  to  try  and  get  rid  of  the  thing. 
And  the  Navajos  have  got  right  up  on  their  ear  about 
it  and  there  's  a  whole  band  of  'em  now  down  at  San 
Remo  wanting  old  Sanchez  to  turn  'em  over  his  whole 
sheep  herd  to  pay  for  it.  How  's  that  for  high,  eh  ?  " 

Stephens  leaped  to  his  feet.  ' '  Who  told  you  this  ?  ' ' 
he  cried. 

' '  Why,  Andres  himself, ' '  replied  the  storekeeper. 
"  I  've  seen  him.  He  's  hidden  away  now  in  an  inner 
room  down  at  the  house.  The  Indians  are  having  a 
big  pow-wow  outside.  Oh,  they  'd  just  murder  him  if 
they  could  get  their  hands  on  him  once." 

Without  a  word  Stephens  caught  up  his  saddle  and 
his  Winchester  and  started  for  the  door. 

"  Where  are  you  off  to  so  quick  ?  "  asked  Backus, 
rising  also. 

' '  To  get  my  mare, ' '  was  the  answer,  ' '  and  go  straight 
down  there.  And  you  'd  best  come  along,  too.  You 
can  have  that  mule." 


CHAPTER  XII 

PACIFYING   A   GHOST 

AY,"  asked  Mr.  Backus,  as  the  pair  rode  out  of 
the  pueblo  side  by  side,  "  how  're  ye  getting  on 
with  the  silver-mine  question  ?  Had  any  new  develop- 
ments ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  the  prospector,  "  I  bounced  them 
straight  out  about  it  last  night,  and  learned  nothing. 
They  just  won't  open  their  heads  on  the  subject  at  all. 
They  simply  swear  there  never  was  a  mine,  and  I 
don't  believe  it  's  any  use  to  go  on  working  at  them." 

"And  what  '11  you  do  next?"  queried  the  store- 
keeper. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,"  said  Stephens  simply, 
"  I  've  not  quite  made  up  my  mind  what  I  want  to  do, 
but  I  'm  much  inclined  to  chuck  it  up." 

"  Look  at  here,"  interjected  Backus,  "  did  ye  ever 
think  to  try  them  Navajos  ?  They  used  to  roam  all 
over  these  mountains  in  the  old  days,  and  they  know 
'em  still  just  like  a  book.  They  know  what  silver  is, 
too,  for  you  see  all  their  high-u-muck-a-mucks  wearing 
plates  of  it  all  over  'em.  How  about  them  knowing 
where  the  mine  is  ?  " 

"  I  doubt  it,"  returned  Stephens.  "  They  'd  have 
sold  the  secret  of  it  to  the  Mexicans  long  ago  if  they 
had  known  it." 

144 


Pacifying  a  Ghost  145 

' '  They  '  re  too  suspicious  of  the  Mexicans  to  do  that, ' ' 
said  the  other;  "  they  don  't  trust  'em.  They  'd  be  afraid 
they  'd  cheat  'em  ;  but  mebbe  they  might  trust  you 
or  me  enough  to  think  we  'd  pay  'em  if  we  promised  to." 

' '  They  don't  trust  the  Mexicans  far,  by  all  accounts, ' ' 
said  Stephens,  "  I  allow  that  much.  But  say — I  want 
to  know  more  about  this  fuss  between  Don  Andres  and 
the  Navajo.  How  was  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Backus,  "  the  Navajo  came  to  the  sheep 
camp  where  Andres  was  with  his  two  herders.  The 
Navajo  had  his  squaw  along.  And  he  and  Andres  got 
to  playing  cards  by  the  firelight,  and  Andres  won  all 
the  money  he  had,  six  dollars  and  a  half.  And  then 
the  Injun  got  mad  and  swore  Andres  had  cheated  him. 
And  Andres  told  him  to  go  to  Halifax  !  And  then  the 
Injun  got  madder,  and  drawed  his  butcher-knife  and 
went  for  Andres  right  there.  But  Andres  was  too  darn 
quick  for  him,  and  pulled  his  gun, — he  wears  a  mighty 
nice  pistol,  does  Andres,  a  Smith  and  Wesson  nickel- 
plated, — and  he  plugged  him  just  under  the  heart  and 
laid  him  out.  And  then  the  squaw  bawled  and  ran  off 
into  the  woods,  and  Andres  and  the  two  sheep-herders 
were  powerful  frightened  over  what  they  'd  done,  and 
they  chucked  the  body  on  the  camp-fire  to  burn  it  up, 
and  they  packed  their  camp  outfit  and  drove  the  sheep 
herd  that  night  right  away  to  the  Ojo  Escondido.  But 
when  the  squaw  got  back  to  the  other  Injuns  and  told 
them,  they  just  naturally  knew  their  best  plan  was  to 
come  down  on  old  man  Sanchez  at  oncet.  That 's  why 
they  're  here.  They  got  here  this  morning,  and  Andres 
come  in  only  a  few  hours  ahead  of  'em,  about  midnight 
last  night." 

"  Well  I  'm  sorry  for  Don  Nepomuceno,"  said 
Stephens. 


146  Lone  Pine 

"  And  he  's  tarnation  sorry  for  himself  too,  you  bet," 
added  the  Texan.  "  He  's  in  an  awful  sweat  over  his 
flock  of  sheep.  I  never  saw  a  man  look  sicker.  Why, 
if  the  Navajos  was  to  run  off  his  sheep  it  'd  bust  him 
wide  open.  He  's  liable  to  have  to  make  the  original 
herd  good  to  old  man  Baca,  you  see." 

"  By  George  !  "  returned  Stephens,  "  I  don't  wonder 
he  's  in  a  sweat.  What  does  he  want  to  see  me  for, 
d'  you  know  ?  ' ' 

"  Wai',"  replied  Backus,  "  he  reckons  that  as  an 
American  you  might  be  able  to  help  him  some.  The 
Americans  are  running  this  Territory  now,  and  the 
Navajos  have  darned  good  reason  to  know  it,  and  he 
thinks  they  '11  mind  you.  I  left  him  and  some  of  his 
compadres  pow- wowing  away  with  them  outside  the 
house,  but  they  had  n't  come  to  no  conclusion.  Pretty 
Miss  Manuelita  " — he  looked  knowingly  at  the  pro- 
spector— "  was  just  crying  her  eyes  out  over  her  brother 
inside.  She  thinks  he  '11  be  killed,  sure." 

Stephens  touched  his  mare  with  the  spurs.  "  I  '11 
gallop  ahead,  I  think,"  he  said,  raising  his  reins,  "  but 
I  '11  be  obliged  to  you  if  you  '11  bring  that  mule  along 
quietly  and  just  put  him  in  your  stable  till  I  can  come 
round  for  him.  So  long."  He  gave  the  mare  her 
head,  and  in  a  moment  she  was  skimming  like  a  swal- 
low over  the  gentle  undulations  of  the  dusty  stretch  of 
the  Indian  lands.  Backus  jogged  along,  watching  the 
mare  and  her  rider  grow  smaller  and  smaller  in  the 
distance. 

'  You  don't  just  know  what  you  want  yourself,"  said 
he,  apostrophising  his  late  companion,  "  but  I  think  I 
know  about' what  you  want,  and  I  '11  make  it  my  busi- 
ness, Mr.  Stephens,  to  see  that  you  don't  get  it."  The 
look  in  his  eye  as  he  spoke  was  not  amiable. 


Pacifying  a  Ghost  147 

It  was  not  exactly  a  cheerful  sight  that  greeted  the 
American  on  his  arrival  at  San  Remo.  The  palaver 
was  in  progress,  and  there  against  a  blank  wall  outside 
the  Sanchez  house  squatted  eleven  very  glum-faced 
Navajos,  while  on  the  ground  opposite  to  them  in  the 
strong  morning  light  sat  Don  Nepomuceno  and  three 
of  his  relations  who  had  come  to  give  him  their  support. 

The  eleven  Indians  were  the  first  Navajos  Stephens 
had  ever  seen,  and  he  eyed  them  with  no  little  curiosity. 
"  Call  these  wild  Indians  ?  "  he  felt  like  saying:  "  why 
they  look  as  civilised  as  the  Pueblos. ' '  This  was  be- 
cause of  their  dress  mainly.  They  did  not  have  their 
hair  braided  in  locks  with  beaver  fur  like  the  mountain 
Utes,  or  twisted  up  like  any  of  the  plains  Indians  ;  each 
had  a  bright  red  kerchief  bound  turban-wise  round  his 
snaky  black  locks,  just  like  the  Pueblo  Indians,  except 
that  he  wore  no  "  chungo,"  or  pigtail,  at  the  back. 
Neither  was  their  colour  as  dark  as  that  of  the  Utes  or 
the  Sioux  ;  they  were  distinctly  lighter.  "  Perhaps 
living  further  south  they  wash  more,"  he  thought, 
' '  and  that  may  account  for  it. ' '  Then,  in  lieu  of  buffalo 
robes  and  buckskins  they  were  clad  in  neat  belted 
tunics  and  loose  cotton  breeches,  and  for  a  wrap  or 
mantle  had  gaily  striped  blankets  of  their  own  weav- 
ing. "  Real  tony  their  blankets  are,"  said  he  to  him- 
self, "  and  just  asprett}'  as  a  painted  mule."  A  pinto, 
or  piebald,  mule  is  an  extraordinary  rarity,  and  it  is 
quoted  in  the  Far  West  as  the  highest  standard  of 
picturesque  beauty. 

No;  as  far  as  dress  went  they  did  not  look  like  wild 
Indians  at  all,  at  least  not  like  any  he  had  ever  seen. 
But  when  he  came  to  look  at  their  faces  he  changed  his 
mind.  Not  that  they  were  all  alike  ;  on  the  contrary 
the  diversity  of  types  was  remarkable.  There  were  low- 


148  Lone   Pine 

browed,  thick-lipped,  thick-nosed,  heavy-jawed  men 
among  them,  and  there  were  others  with  fine  aquiline 
features  and  regular,  well-shaped  mouths.  But  their 
bold,  impudent,  cunning  eyes  betrayed  them.  One 
and  all  they  looked  thorough  rascals.  As  Stephens 
ran  his  eye  over  them,  his  acute  glance  rested  on  a  big, 
hawk-faced  man  with  a  sullen  expression,  who  sat  in 
the  middle  of  them  smoking  a  cigarette  with  an  air  of 
unconcern.  His  broad  leather  belt  was  studded  with 
great  bosses  of  shining  silver. 

"  How,"  said  Stephens,  dismounting  and  looking 
straight  at  this  Indian  whom  he  took  for  the  chief,  but 
the  latter  gazed  at  him  stolidly  without  taking  any 
notice.  The  Mexican  rose  and  welcomed  him  warmly. 

"  Come  round  with  me  to  the  corral,  Don  Estevan," 
said  Sanchez  as  he  dismounted  ;  "let  me  put  the  mare 
up  for  you.  Pedro,  the  peon,  is  keeping  the  house 
door.  My  unlucky  boy  Andres  is  inside.  Ah,  what 
a  foolish  boy  to  go  and  gamble  with  an  Indian !  The 
storekeeper  will  have  told  you  of  our  trouble." 

"  Yes,"  said  Stephens,  "  he  told  me  that  the  Nava- 
jos  were  demanding  your  whole  flock  of  sheep." 

"  Oh,  not  really,"  replied  the  Mexican;  "  that  is, 
they  only  threaten  to  take  them  if  I  don't  pay.  But 
they  positively  and  actually  have  the  impudence  to  de- 
mand that  I  should  pay  them  a  thousand  dollars,  silver 
dollars,  for  one  scrub  Indian,"  he  groaned. 

"  It  sounds  a  good  lot,"  said  Stephens  reflectively. 

"  Oh,  it 's  ridiculous,"  said  the  disconsolate  Mexican. 
"  A  thousand  dollars  for  one  miserable,  low-down  In- 
dian. I  've  offered  them  a  hundred  and  twenty-five, 
and  that 's  more  than  he  was  worth  to  them  twice  over. 
But  they  say  he  belonged  to  Ankitona's  family."  He 
busied  himself  undoing  the  latigo  strap  of  the  hair  cinch. 


Pacifying  a  Ghost  149 

"  But,  look  here,"  rejoined  the  American,  to  whom 
this  exact  appraisement  of  the  value  of  one  "  low-down 
Indian ' '  was  a  novelty ;  ' '  according  to  the  way  Mr. 
Backus  gave  me  the  story  as  we  rode  down,  I  can't  see 
why  you  should  have  to  pay  anything  to  them  at  all. 
If  Don  Andres  killed  the  Indian  in  self-defence,  any 
court  in  this  country  would  clear  him.  Do  they  deny 
it  ?  Do  they  say  that  he  attacked  the  Indian  first  ?  " 

"Oh,  no,"  said  the  Mexican,  "you  don't  under- 
stand ;  his  acting  in  self-defence  does  n't  make  any 
difference."  He  spread  the  saddle  blanket  over  the 
mare,  tying  it  on  with  a  cord  surcingle.  "  She  's  hot," 
he  observed,  "  she  'd  best  have  it  on  till  she  's  cool. 
No, ' '  he  repeated,  as  they  turned  back  to  the  scene  of 
the  palaver,  "  it  is  n't  a  matter  where  law  courts  count 
for  anything.  Our  courts  don't  ever  bind  the  Navajos. 
The  one  thing  that  does  count  in  our  dealings  with 
them  is  whether  we  are  at  peace  or  at  war.  Now,  if  we 
were  at  war  with  them  at  present  they  would  n't  come 
here  to  ask  for  pay.  No,  they  'd  go  straight  off  and 
just  kill  or  carry  away  captive  any  Mexicans  they 
could  catch  in  revenge.  But,  you  see,  we  're  at  peace; 
so  the  rule  is,  if  any  Mexican  kills  a  Navajo  he  must 
pay.  They  think  that  if  his  family  don't  make  the 
Mexicans  pay  up  for  the  dead  man  his  ghost  will  haunt 
them.  Their  religion,  you  see,  binds  them,  if  I  don't 
pay,  to  kill  my  son,  or  else  maybe  me,  or  some  other 
member  of  my  family  ;  and  very  likely  they  '11  cut  my 
sheep  herd  some  night  and  run  off  a  lot  of  the  sheep 
besides.  Oh,  I  've  got  to  pay."  He  groaned  again. 

"Well,  Don  Nepomuceno,"  said  the  American, 
"I'm  real  sorry  to  hear  of  your  ill-luck.  I  call  it  a 
very  hard  case.  If  there  's  anything  I  can  do  to  help 
you,  you  can  count  on  me.  All  the  same,  if  that  In- 


150  Lone   Pine 

dian  came  at  Don  Andres  with  a  knife  I  don't  myself 
see  what  else  he  could  do  except  shoot,  and  I  ain't  the 
man  to  blame  him  for  defending  himself.  Say,  now, 
before  we  go  back  to  where  the  Navajos  are,  you  just 
tell  me  what  you  think  I  can  do  to  be  of  assistance." 

The  strictly  business  footing,  so  to  speak,  on  which 
Don  Nepomuceno  dealt  with  the  subject  puzzled  the 
prospector  not  a  little,  and  he  was  afraid  lest  by  inter- 
fering ignorantly  he  might  only  make  things  worse. 

'  Well,  Don  Estevan,  these  Navajos  think  a  deal 
of  an  American's  opinion,  naturally  ;  so,  since  you  are 
so  kind,  I  want  you  to  use  your  influence  with  them  to 
make  them  take  a  more  reasonable  sum.  A  thousand 
dollars  is  all  nonsense.  He  was  quite  a  poor  scrub 
Indian.  He  had  hardly  any  sheep  of  his  own,  and  no 
pony.  They  admit  that  he  lived  off  the  richer  men  of  his 
family,  so  I  say  that  they  're  well  rid  of  him.  They  're 
really  richer  without  him.  He  was,  among  them,  like 
one  of  the  poorest  of  our  peons  here.  I  declare  if  I 
gave  them  fifty  dollars  for  him  it  would  be  plenty.  But 
he  was  one  of  the  family  of  Ankitona,  and  he  's  a  very 
powerful  chief,  with  lots  of  relations.  He  's  not  here 
himself — not  he.  He  has  sent  his  sister's  son  though, 
Mahletonkwa.  He  's  that  tall  Indian  with  a  hooked 
nose  and  the  big  row  of  silver  plates  all  round  his  belt. 
He  's  a  terribly  bad  Indian.  He  boasts  that  he  never 
surrendered  to  the  Americans, — that  they  never  could 
take  him  to  the  Pecos.  I  think  he  's  rather  afraid  of 
them  all  the  same,  though  he  says  he  is  n't,  and  swag- 
gers about  with  his  band  of  desperadoes.  But  he  's 
quite  the  worst  Navajo  going,  and  there  has  n't  been  a 
piece  of  mischief  done  in  the  last  two  years  without  him 
and  his  gang  having  a  hand  in  it.  They  're  the  terror 
of  the  whole  country.  There  's  another  rascal  there 


Pacifying  a  Ghost  151 

that  's  pretty  near  as  bad  as  lie  is.  That  's  the  one 
with  two  feathers  in  his  head-dress — Notalinkwa  his 
name  is.  He  's  a  villain  too." 

"  I  see,"  answered  Stephens;  "  you  want  me  to  talk 
to  this — what  do  you  call  him — Mahletonkwa,  and  tell 
him  that  he  's  got  to  come  down  a  bit  in  his  price.  Do 
you  think  that  '11  do  any  good  ?  " 

The  Mexican  turned  his  eager  eyes  full  on  Stephens, 
and  laid  his  hand  on  his  arm.  "  I  think  it  will,"  he 
cried  ;  "  you  are  an  American,  and  all  the  Navajos 
think  that  it  's  their  cue  to  keep  on  good  terms  with 
the  Americans.  They  are  a  good'  deal  afraid  of  them 
since  the  time  of  their  defeat  in  the  Canon  de  Chelly, 
when  they  learned  to  fear  the  brave  Coronel  Christo- 
phero  Carson  and  that  valiente  capitan,  Albert  Pfeiffer. 
That  was  several  years  ago,  and  after  that  they  sur- 
rendered and  were  taken  away  beyond  Santa  Fe  and 
kept  over  on  the  Pecos.  They  did  hate  that  ;  they 
were  nearly  starved  there,  and  lots  of  them  died,  and  a 
good  job  too.  It  is  only  a  couple  of  years  now  since 
they  have  been  allowed  to  come  back  to  their  own 
country.  But  even  those  who  never  were  caught  and 
taken  to  the  Pecos  heard  the  story  of  it,  and  they,  too, 
fear  the  Americans.  Oh  yes,  they  listen  to  their 
agent,  Seiior  Morton,  at  Canon  Bonito." 

"Well,  then,"  exclaimed  Stephens,  "there  's  our 
man.  Of  course  the  Indian  agent  is  the  proper  person 
to  appeal  to  in  a  matter  of  this  sort.  Shall  I  tell  this 
Mahletonkwa,  then,  that  the  moment  he  goes  to  cut- 
ting up  any  didoes  on  his  own  hook  round  here  the 
agent  will  be  down  on  him  like  a  knife  ?  I  '11  just  in- 
quire what  right  Mr.  Mahletonkwa  has  got  to  come 
here  anyhow — yes,  or  to  be  off  his  reservation  at  all. 
If  Don  Andres  had  gone  on  to  their  reservation  and 


152  Lone  Pine 

killed  a  Navajo  there,  then  there  might  be  something 
to  be  said  for  their  side  of  the  argument,  but  if  a  Navajo 
comes  here  among  the  Mexican  sheep  herds  he  's  got 
to  abide  by  the  laws  of  New  Mexico,  I  say." 

"  Oh,  Don  Estevan,  that  's  no  use,"  answered  the 
other  sadly.  ' '  He  don't  care  two  reales  about  the  laws. 
No,  you  tell  him  that  Senor  Morton  will  make  the 
soldiers  come  and  shoot  him  if  he  or  any  of  his  family 
kill  my  son  ;  make  him  believe  that,  if  you  can,  and 
you  '11  be  doing  some  good." 

"  I  '11  try,"  said  the  American  doubtfully,  "but  I 
hardly  expect  he  '11  mind  much  what  I  say." 

The  pair  walked  round  the  house  to  the  south  side, 
where  the  Navajos  were  sitting,  and  squatted  down 
on  the  dry,  sandy  soil  opposite  them,  alongside  of  the 
three  Mexicans.  Stephens  got  out  his  tobacco-bag  and 
passed  it  round  before  he  filled  his  own  pipe,  and  began 
to  smoke  with  calculated  deliberation.  He  had  at  least 
learned  one  lesson,  that  it  is  no  use  to  hurry  an  Indian 
if  you  want  to  do  business  with  him. 

Having  got  his  pipe  thoroughly  alight  and  returned 
his  tobacco-bag  to  his  pocket,  he  looked  at  Mahle- 
tonkwa,  and  said,  "  You  come  from  Fort  Defiance  ?  " 

The  Agency  at  Fort  Defiance,  called  by  the  Mexicans 
Canon  Bonito,  is  just  over  the  border  line  between  New 
Mexico  and  Arizona,  and  well  in  the  middle  of  the 
Navajo  country. 

"  No,"  said  the  Indian  briefly  ;  "  more  this  side." 

"  You  got  leave  from  the  agent  to  be  off  the  reserva- 
tion ?  "  asked  Stephens  sharply. 

The  Indian  parried  this  question.  "  I  come  from 
my  mother's  brother,  Ankitona,"  he  said.  "  He 
mucho  bravo — very  angry  about  this  thing."  He  in- 
dicated the  killing  by  Don  Andre's. 


Pacifying  a  Ghost  153 

"  Likely  enough,"  said  Stephens,  "  but  that  's  no 
answer  to  my  question.  What  I  want  to  know  is  if 
you  've  got  leave." 

"  I  don't  ask  anybody's  leave,"  said  Mahletonkwa 
defiantly.  "  I  'm  not  the  slave  of  the  Americans.  I 
never  went  to  Bosque  Redondo."  Bosque  Redondo 
was  the  scene  of  their  captivity  over  on  the  Pecos 
River. 

"  Indeed  !  "  retorted  Stephens;  "  but,  if  you  hear  me 
talk,  it  might  have  been  better  for  you  if  you  had. 
You  might  have  had  a  chance  to  learn  how  to  behave 
yourself."  If  this  audacious  redskin  was  going  to  put 
on  any  frills  with  him  he  proposed  to  check  him  up 
short  right  at  the  start. 

Mahletonkwa  chose  to  look  very  surly  at  this  rebuff. 
Then  he  repeated  his  previous  assertion.  "  Ankitona 
very  angry  indeed  about  this." 

"  And  quite  right  of  him  too,"  said  Stephens.  "  He 
ought  to  be  very  angry  with  your  man  who  went  and 
got  himself  killed.  You  've  got  no  right  to  say  it  's 
Don  Andres's  fault,  if  he  had  to  defend  himself.  The 
man  who  drew  the  knife  is  to  blame." 

The  Indian  dissented  by  a  gesture,  but  made  no 
verbal  reply.  Disregarding  Sanchez's  warning  of  the 
futility  of  this  argument,  Stephens  laboured  to  prove 
that  killing  done  in  self-defence  was  nothing  more  than 
justifiable  homicide.  But  his  words  seemed  to  take  no 
effect  on  the  Indian,  who  smoked  on  stolidly  till  it  was 
evident  that  all  this  talk  was  to  no  purpose.  In  an 
undertone  Don  Nepomuceno  hinted  as  much. 

When  at  last  the  Navajo  condescended  to  answer, 
his  view  of  the  affair  proved  to  be  very  much  as  the 
Mexican  had  prophesied.  To  him  it  did  not  matter 
three  straws,  he  explained,  who  struck  the  first  blow 


154  Lone  Pine 

or  who  was  to  blame  for  the  quarrel.  His  point  was 
that  the  family  had  lost  a  valuable  asset  in  the  shape 
of  a  warrior,  for  which  they  required  a  good  round  sum 
in  compensation,  and  not  only  that,  but  enough  to 
enable  them  to  give  their  lost  relative  a  number  of  gifts 
that  would  make  him  comfortable  in  the  next  world. 
He  would  require  a  good  deal  to  make  him  comfort- 
able, too,  for  not  only  had  he  been  killed,  but  he  had 
been  sadly  disfigured  ;  an  undeniable  fact,  for  of  course 
the  charred  object  that  had  been  partly  destroyed  with 
fire  was  a  horrid  sight.  The  dead  warrior's  spirit  was 
exceedingly  angry,  said  Mahletonkwa,  and  required  to 
be  appeased  with  liberal  offerings,  and  if  he  was  n't 
properly  mollified  he  would  take  it  out  of  his  neglectful 
family  by  haunting  them.  Under  this  spiritual  com- 
pulsion it  was  clear  that  all  the  family  were  bound  to 
rise  to  the  situation,  he  argued.  There  was  no  choice 
left  them  ;  they  were  absolutely  bound,  by  some  means 
or  other,  to  extract  satisfaction  from  the  family  of  the 
slayer.  He  was  very  much  in  earnest.  It  was  n't  war 
by  any  means  ;  no,  it  was  a  mere  family  affair,  so  to 
speak.  But  there  it  was,  and  it  would  have  to  be 
arranged. 

It  took  Stephens  some  time  to  become  convinced  that 
Don  Nepomuceno  was  right,  and  that  the  dead  man's 
ghost  was  at  the  bottom  of  it  all. 

"  You  see,  this  is  how  it  is,  Don  Estevan,"  said  the 
Mexican,  speaking  to  him  aside.  "  These  Navajos 
have  a  sort  of  Purgatory  of  their  own.  Heaven  forgive 
me  for  comparing  their  heathen  superstitions  to  our 
holy  religion,  but  I  want  to  make  you  understand. 
You  know  when  our  friends  die  we  give  the  proper 
offerings  to  the  priest  to  say  masses  to  make  their  stay 
in  Purgatory  shorter.  Well,  now  you  have  heard 


Pacifying  a  Ghost  155 

Mahletonkwa  say  that  these  Indians  have  their  re- 
ligion, which  is  all  false,  of  course,  only  they  are  obsti- 
nate and  believe  it,  and  according  to  that  it  is  necessary 
for  the  family  to  give  presents  to  make  the  spirits  of 
the  dead  more  happy.  And  they  are  very  much  afraid 
if  they  don't  do  it  ;  oh  yes,  they  are  grossly  super- 
stitious ;  but  how  can  I  help  it  ?  How  can  I  teach 
them  better  ?  These  heathens  are  very  expensive  to 
deal  with.  If  he  were  a  Christian  it  would  n't  cost  me 
half  so  much,  but  I  don't  suppose  you  could  make  him 
see  how  foolish  he  is." 

He  paused,  as  if  a  new  idea  had  struck  him.  ' '  Could 
you,  do  you  think" — he  added  eagerly — "  could  you 
show  him  the  error  of  his  ways  ? ' ' 

"Jerusalem,  no!"  cried  Stephens,  taken  consider- 
ably aback,  "  I  rather  guess  not.  I  'm  not  a  mission- 
ary by  a  long  shot.  No  sir-ee,  that  's  a  trade  I  never 
had  a  go  at,  but  I  '11  tell  you  what  we  used  to  say  up 
in  Montana  :  '  The  best  missionary  is  a  gain-twist, 
hair-trigger  rifle  that  will  convert  a  Sioux  Indian  at 
three  hundred  yards  every  pop.'  That 's  what  we  said 
there  :  but  I  '11  admit  that  these  southern  Indians  down 
here  are  a  very  different  sort  of  folk.  The  Sioux  were 
pure,  unadulterated  savages,  but  these  Navajos  seem 
to  be  part  human.  Still,  I  don't  see  my  way  to  wading 
in  at  Messrs.  Mahletonkwa  and  Co.  with  a  hymn-book." 
He  chuckled  to  himself  at  the  naivete  of  the  Mexican's 
suggestion. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  latter  regretfully,  "  I  feared  you 
could  n't  do  it.  After  all,  to  be  missionaries  is  the 
business  of  the  padres  and  not  of  you  or  me.  But  I 
like  what  you  told  me  about  the  missionary  rifle  of  the 
Americans  that  converts  an  Indian  at  three  hundred 
yards.  You  tell  him  that  ;  preach  that  to  him  ;  put  it 


156  Lone  Pine 

strong."  He  evidently  had  great  faith  in  the  moral 
influence  of  the  American  over  the  Navajos  from  the 
mere  fact  of  his  being  an  American. 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Stephens,  with  a  certain  pride 
of  race  in  the  appeal  thus  made,  "  I  '11  see  what  I  can 
do.  L,ookhere,  Mahletonkwa, "  he  continued,  address- 
ing the  chief,  "  I  've  heard  your  talk  about  this  unfor- 
tunate incident,  and  I  quite  see  that  you  've  got  reason 
on  your  side,  looking  at  it  from  your  point  of  view. 
Of  course,  our  point  of  view  is  quite  different  ;  but 
we  '11  waive  that  for  the  moment.  Very  well.  Here  's 
Don  Nepomuceno  making  you  a  very  liberal  offer  of  a 
hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  to  settle  the  matter. 
Now  that  's  a  lot  of  money  ;  and  if  you  're  the  wise 
man  I  take  you  for,  you  '11  close  with  it  and  accept  his 
offer.  That  's  my  advice  to  you.  You  '11  find  it  best 
in  the  end,  much  better  business  than  trying  to  fight 
the  United  States  soldiers.  The  soldiers  have  got  re- 
peating rifles,  heap-shoot  guns,  mind  you.  If  you  re- 
fuse, and  go  and  take  the  law  into  your  own  hands, 
and  attack  Don  Andres,  or  any  of  his  family,  you  '11 
smart  for  it.  I  give  you  fair  warning.  If  you  touch 
them  I  '11  have  the  soldiers  sent  after  you.  Captain 
Pfeiffer  aint  dead  yet.  You  've  heard  of  him,  so  don't 
you  make  any  mistake  about  that.  You  hear  me  talk  ; 
and  what  I  say  I  '11  do.  My  tongue  is  straight.  I 
have  spoken." 

His  words  carried  weight  and  produced  some  effect, 
as  two  of  the  Navajos  at  once  began  to  urge  some- 
thing on  their  chief  with  great  earnestness  in  their  own 
language,  apparently  wishing  him  to  comply.  Ste- 
phens had  adopted  the  crisp,  pungent  sentences  that 
appeal  most  to  the  redskin's  taste.  But  Mahletonkwa 
was  in  no  hurry  to  come  to  terms,  and  presently  re- 


Pacifying  a  Ghost  157 

• 

plied  to  Stephens  at  some  length,  explaining  that  the 
offer  was  most  inadequate.  More  cash  for  themselves 
and  gifts  for  the  dead  man  were  indispensable,  abso- 
lutely indispensable.  His  terms  were  still  a  thousand 
dollars,  neither  more  nor  less. 

' '  I  believe  that  other  chap — what  d'  you  call  him  ? 
Notalinkwa,  looks  as  if  he  was  inclined  to  vote  for 
taking  your  offer,"  said  Stephens  to  Don  Neponmceno. 
He  had  been  observing  the  faces  of  the  rest  of  the  In- 
dians very  closely  while  Mahletonkwa  was  speaking. 
"  L/ook  here.  Let 's  leave  him  and  his  friends  to  argue 
it  out ;  I  'm  sure  by  their  looks  some  of  them  want  him 
to  give  way.  They  '11  talk  better  if  we  're  not  by. 
Come  along  to  the  store  or  somewhere." 

"  Come  into  the  house,"  said  the  Mexican,  jumping 
up ;  "  we  can  talk  better  too  when  we  are  by  ourselves, ' ' 
and  he  led  the  way  to  the  great  door  leading  into  the 
patio,  now  strongly  barred  and  fastened.  At  the 
master's  summons  the  peon  who  was  on  guard  hast- 
ened to  unbar  ;  the  door  was  partly  opened  and  they 
slipped  in,  the  master  of  the  house  quickly  assisting 
the  peon  to  replace  the  wooden  beams  that  secured  it 
as  soon  as  the}'  were  inside,  while  Stephens  shook 
hands  with  Don  Andres,  a  tall,  well-built  young  Mexi- 
can, who  would  have  been  very  handsome  had  he  not 
been  marked  with  smallpox. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Don  Andres  ?  "  he  said  heartily. 
"  I  'm  sorry  for  this  trouble  you  've  got  into.  How- 
ever, let  's  hope  it  can  be  fixed  up  all  right." 

"  It 's  very  unlucky,"  returned  the  young  Mexican  ; 
"  I  did  n't  want  to  kill  him,  but  he  would  have  it.  I 
had  to  do  something  to  defend  my  .life." 

"  That  's  just  what  I  say,"  assented  Stephens  ;  "  I 
was  putting  it  to  Mahletonkwa  like  that  just  now,  only 


158  Lone  Pine 

he  would  n't  see  it.  He  jumped  the  track  entirely, 
and  went  off  into  a  rigmarole  about  ghosts  and  such 
like  stuff,  where  I  could  n't  follow  him,  nohow." 

"  You  were  an  exasperating,  foolish  boy  !  "  exclaimed 
Don  Nepomuceno  testily  to  his  son,  as  the  door-beam 
was  finally  wedged  into  its  place.  "It  's  all  your 
fault,"  he  broke  out,  with  vexation  and  almost  de- 
spair in  his  voice.  :<  What  I  shall  do  I  don't  know. 
You  've  gone  and  acted  like  an  idiot.  I  've  told  you 
to  stop  your  gambling  a  thousand  times,  and  then  you 
must  go  and  gamble  with  an  Indian,  a  scrub  Indian! 
Yes,  an  idiot,  that  's  what  you  are.  Come  in,  Don 
Estevan,  come  into  the  house,"  and  he  led  the  way 
to  the  big  living-room,  Don  Andres  following  rather 
sheepishly.  Not  a  word  did  he  venture  to  say  in  reply 
to  his  angry  father's  tirade.  "  Honour  thy  father  "  is 
a  commandment  that  is  far  from  being  obsolete  in  New 
Mexico.  If  his  father  had  taken  a  rod  in  his  wrath 
and  beaten  him,  this  tall  young  man  would  have  duti- 
fully submitted  himself. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  the  master  of  the  house  hospitably, 
pointing  to  the  divan  ;  "  take  a  seat  here,  Don  Estevan. 
Will  you  have  something  to  eat  ?  " 

"  Well,  thank  you,  Don  Nepomuceno,"  answered 
Stephens,  "  since  you  are  so  kind,  I  think  I  will,  if  it 
is  n't  too  much  trouble.  The  fact  is,  I  came  down 
without  my  breakfast. ' ' 

"  Ho,  there,  Juana  !  "  cried  the  Mexican,  running 
to  the  door,  ' '  and  you,  my  sister  !  Make  haste,  set 
breakfast  for  the  senor.  He  is  hungry.  Be  quick 
now."  A  scurrying  of  fe,et  was  heard  in  the  kitchen 
at  the  sound  of  his  commanding  voice.  "  And  make  him 
tortillas  of  wheat  flour,"  his  loud  tones  went  on,  "  hot 
tortillas  with  fat,  and  coffee  ;  see  that  you  make  coffee." 


Pacifying  a  Ghost  159 

He  came  back  and  seated  himself  beside  Stephens. 
"  What  do  you  think  about  it,  senor  ?  "  he  inquired. 
"  What  is  the  best  thing  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  Well,  if  you  ask  me  my  deliberate  opinion,"  said 
Stephens,  leaning  back  and  crossing  his  left  leg  over 
the  other  with  his  hands  clasped  round  the  knee,  "  I 
should  say  this  :  It  seems  to  be  perfectly  clear  that 
these  Indians  are  outside  the  law  ;  it 's  no  use  to  appeal 
to  it  with  them.  Now  the  mail  goes  by  here  to-day, 
noon,  towards  Santa  Fe.  I  say,  write  to  the  governor 
of  the  Territory  at  Santa  Fe,  and  to  the  general  com- 
manding the  United  States  troops  there,  and  tell  them 
about  it,  and  ask  their  protection.  They  're  bound  to 
give  it  you.  And  write  to  the  Navajo  Agency  at  Fort 
Defiance,  and  tell  the  agent  there,  and  ask  him  to  have 
Mahletonkwa  and  his  band  brought  back  on  to  the 
reservation.  And  I  should  tell  the  Indians  exactly 
what  I  was  doing,  and  warn  them  once  more  that 
they  '11  certainly  have  the  United  States  cavalry  after 
them  if  they  don't  behave.  If  that  makes  them  any 
more  inclined  to  accept  your  offer  of  a  hundred  and 
twenty-five  dollars,  why,  of  course  you  '11  count  them 
out  the  money  and  settle  it  out  of  hand.  I  should  call 
a  settlement  cheap  at  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars 
cash  down.  More  than  that,  if  I  was  you,  I  'd  raise 
my  offer  a  trifle,  if  I  thought  I  could  afford  it,  so  as  to 
meet  them.  You  heard  Mahletonkwa  say  he  wanted 
gifts,  some  sheep  and  a  pony,  to  sacrifice  for  the  dead 
man's  ghost.  I  gather  by  what  you  tell  me  about  their 
religion,  that  he  thinks  that  if  he  kills  them  for  him 
specially,  the  dear  departed  can  go  and  corral  the  ghosts 
of  the  pony  and  sheep  in  the  happy  hunting-grounds, 
and  have  the  full  benefit  of  them  there.  Now,  you 
must  have  in  your  flock  some  old  six-tooth  ewes,  that 


160  Lone  Pine 

likely  will  never  breed  another  lamb  ;  give  him  a  dozen 
or  two  to  butcher.  And  then,  could  n't  you  trade  for, 
or  borrow,  some  old  stove-up  pony,  very  cheap,  and  let 
him  have  that,  too?  That  won't  ruin  you.  I  take  it 
the  Navajos  mean  to  keep  your  good  hard  silver  dol- 
lars for  themselves,  and  they  '11  religiously  send  the 
foundered  old  sheep  and  pony  ghosts  to  keep  their  de- 
funct relative  company  in  the  sweet  by-and-by."  The 
notion  of  this  ghostly  herd  tickled  his  cynical  humour 
mightily. 

"  Yes,  perhaps  I  might  do  that,"  said  Sanchez  in  a 
saddened  voice.  To  part  with  any  of  his  cherished 
flock  is  like  drawing  eye-teeth  for  a  Mexican.  "  I 
might  let  them  have  a  few  of  my  oldest  ewes  ;  they 
come  in  very  useful  for  mutton,  but  if  I  must,  I  must. 
And  my  brother-in-law  has  a  handsome  pony  who  is 
inyerbado  ;  he  ate  poison- weed  over  on  the  Rio  Grande 
a  year  ago,  and  has  never  been  any  use  since.  That 
dead  Navajo  was  a  very  poor  scrub,  and  it  would  be 
more  than  good  enough  for  him  ;  he  ought  to  be  un- 
commonly grateful  for  it. ' ' 

He  spoke  so  feelingly  that  it  really  seemed  as  if  he 
almost  half  believed  in  the  Purgatory  of  the  Navajos 
himself.  He  hesitated  and  then  went  on.  "  But  as 
for  the  letters,  Don  Estevan,  it 's  not  so  easy.  For  one 
thing,  the  governor  and  the  general  don't  know  Span- 
ish ;  and  then,  you  know,  I  have  n't  much  English, 
and  I  'm  not  much  of  a  hand  at  letter- writing  anyhow. 
I  could  n't  manage  the  letters." 

"  Oh,  if  that  's  all,"  returned  the  other,  "  I  '11  write 
the  letters  for  you  willingly  enough.  Indeed,  as  I  'm 
an  American,  it  's  just  possible  they  may  be  a  trifle 
more  ready  to  pay  attention  to  them.  Yes,  and  I  '11 
tell  you  what  I  '11  do.  I  '11  write  out  an  account  of  the 


Pacifying  a  Ghost  161 

killing  of  the  Navajo  for  Don  Andres,  like  an  affidavit, 
and  he  shall  sign  it,  and  then  we  '11  have  Mr.  Backus 
witness  it  and  put  on  the  post-office  stamp.  He  's  a 
sort  of  a  United  States  official,  and  it  may  help  to  make 
them  feel  more  called  upon  to  take  notice  of  it.  That  '11 
come  as  near  to  being  a  regular  legal  document  as  any- 
thing we  can  scare  up  out  here.  I  do  like  to  do  every- 
thing in  correct  legal  style,  when  I  can.  I  'm  all  for 
law  and  order  every  time.  That  's  me." 

"  Ah,  Don  Estevan,"  said  the  elder  Mexican,  "  it  is 
you  that  have  the  clear  head.  I  am  very  much  obliged 
to  you.  Your  plan  is  the  good  one." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  answered  Stephens,  "  I  '11  just 
run  over  to  the  post-office,  and  get  some  paper  and 
envelopes  and  stamps,  and  draw  up  those  letters  ;  and 
as  Don  Andres  had  better  not  go  outside  the  house  be- 
fore the  matter  is  settled,  I  '11  ask  Mr.  Backus  to  step 
around  here  in  the  course  of  an  hour,  and  bring  his 
post-office  stamp  with  him." 

He  rose  from  his  seat  to  go  towards  the  door,  but 
Don  Nepomuceno  hospitably  protested.  "  Wait  till 
you  have  had  your  breakfast  first,  Don  Estevan.  It  is 
all  ready;  here  is  Manuelita  bringing  it  for  you  "  ;  and 
as  he  spoke  the  girl  entered  and  set  the  table  for  him, 
as  Juana  had  done  on  the  previous  day.  She  smiled  at 
his  greeting,  but  her  eyelids  were  swollen  with  crying. 

At  this  moment  there  came  a  knocking  at  the  outer 
door,  and  the  master  of  the  house  hastened  out  to  see 
who  it  was  demanding  admittance,  and  was  followed  by 
his  son. 

"  He  's  all  right,"  said  Stephens  cheerfully  to  the 
girl,  as  he  looked  into  her  anxious  eyes.  "  He  's  safe 
enough  as  long  as  he  stays  inside  here.  They  '11  none 
bother  him  while  he  's  protected  by  these  walls.  And 


162  Lone   Pine 

I  've  good  hopes  that  we  may  be  able  to  bring  them  to 
a  reasonable  settlement,  so  that  he  can  go  about  again 
in  perfect  safety.  Don't  you  fret  yourself  over  it. 
We  '11  make  these  Navajos  sing  a  proper  tune  before 
we  've  done  with  them."  He  spoke  with  the  easy 
confidence  of  a  man  accustomed  to  deal  with  serious 
affairs,  and  conscious  of  possessing  the  ability  and  the 
experience  for  handling  them  successfully.  But  he 
was  equally  astonished  and  embarrassed  when  Manuel- 
ita,  instead  of  appearing  calmed  by  his  reassuring 
words,  flung  her  hands  over  her  face  and  burst  into  a 
passion  of  sobs. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
A  GIRI/S  TEARS 

AT  the  girl's  outburst  Stephens  was  completely 
taken  aback.  Tears,  a  woman's  tears,  were  a 
novelty  to  him,  and  he  felt  the  quick  leap  of  his  heart 
in  response.  But  it  was  ten  years  since  he  had  heard 
a  woman  sob,  and  his  practical  sympathy,  or  at  least 
the  power  of  expressing  it,  had  become  blunted.  He 
did  not  know  what  to  say  ;  half  a  dozen  phrases  strug- 
gled to  be  born  in  his  throat ;  he  wanted  to  explain  at 
once  to  the  pretty  creature  that  it  was  all  right  ;  to  tell 
her  that  there  was  nothing  to  cry  about  ;  to  say  there 
was  no  use  in  getting  into  a  fuss  over  it;  that  after  all 
a  man  had  to  take  his  chances  ;  and  that  anyhow  the 
milk  was  n't  spilt  yet  ;  that  it  would  be  time  enough  to 
begin  to  cry  when  something  really  happened.  But  he 
felt  the  brutal  stupidity  of  such  remarks,  and  they  re- 
mained unspoken,  while  there  arose  in  him  at  the  same 
instant  the  urgent  desire  to  do  something  ;  to  take  her 
by  the  hand  like  a  frightened  child  ;  to  smooth  her 
ruffled  hair  and  staunch  her  tears  ;  to  console  her,  and, 
by  some  means  or  other,  stay  the  sobs  that  shook  the 
slender  body.  But  he  had  no  right  to  do  any  such 
thing,  and  he  hesitated  to  intrude  himself  on  her  grief, 
which,  moreover,  appeared  to  him,  like  a  child's,  a 
trifle  exaggerated.  To  him  who  had  lived  so  many 

163 


164  Lone  Pine 

years  on  the  frontier,  a  violent  death  had  come  to  seem 
almost  the  natural  end.  Few  pioneers  expected  to  die 
in  their  beds.  Along  the  trails  and  around  the  mining- 
camps  were  many  mounds,  each  one  of  which  marked 
a  six-by-two  claim  that  was  the  last  that  the  holder 
would  ever  occupy,  one  that  he  needed  no  ever-ready 
Winchester  to  defend.  Nameless  graves  they  were  for 
the  most  part,  or  if  there  slanted  at  the  head  some  rude 
board  with  a  name  and  date  roughly  scribbled  to  say 
who  lay  beneath,  the  brief  legend  that  gave  all  that 
would  ever  be  known  of  how  he  came  there  repeated 
with  monotonous  regularity  the  tale  of  misadventure 
or  of  wrong.  "  Shot,  stabbed,  stripped  and  mangled 
by  Thugs,"  "  Killed  by  Indians,"  "  Murdered  by  road- 
agents,"  "Lynched  by  Vigilantes,"  "Blown  up  by 
dynamite,  "  Crushed  by  a  fall  of  rock,"  "  Died  of 
starvation,"  "  Died  of  thirst,"  "  Died  of  cold,"— these 
and  such  as  they  were  the  forms  of  death  with  which 
his  Odyssey  of  toils  had  made  him  familiar.  Small 
wonder,  then,  if  he  who  had  lived  so  long  face  to  face 
with  the  possibility  of  such  an  end,  taking  the  chances 
of  it  freely  himself,  and  seeing  them  taken  as  freely 
by  others,  now  felt  as  if  the  young  man  Don  Andres 
was  a  trifle  overpitied.  He  was  sorry  for  him  himself, 
he  was  trying  to  help  him  all  he  knew,  and  he  was 
ready  to  turn  out  and  fight  for  him  at  any  minute,  but 
he  could  not  see  why  anybody  should  want  to  cry 
about  it.  And  yet  here  was  this  startlingly  agitating, 
insistent  noise  of  a  girl  sobbing  beside  him  that  gripped 
his  heart  with  an  emotion  he  hardly  knew  the  mean- 
ing of. 

"  Don't  you  fret  yourself,"  he  repeated;  "  we  '11  see 
him  through,  senorita,  never  fear." 

Instinctively  he  had  risen  to  his  feet  and  was  stand- 


A  Girl's  Tears  165 

ing  by  her  ;  and  presently  she  recovered  herself  and 
began  to  speak,  though  brokenly  at  first. 

"  It  is  very  foolish  of  me,  I  know,  but  I  cannot  help 
it.  It  makes  me  think  how  my  two  uncles  were  killed 
by  the  Indians  eight  years  ago  up  in  the  mountain. 
My  grandfather  found  them  both  lying  dead  in  the 
trail  ;  the  cruel  Navajos  had  shot  them  both  with 
arrows  from  an  ambush.  My  poor  grandfather  was 
alone,  so  he  could  not  carry  them  down  ;  he  had  to 
leave  them  there,  while  he  came  back  to  San  Gabriel 
for  help.  He  cried  so  much  that  he  grew  blind  and 
could  hardly  find  his  way  to  Sari  Gabriel.  And  then 
their  bodies  were  brought  down  here  ;  I  was  only  a 
child  like  Altagracia,  but  I  remember  it  so  well,  and 
indeed  this  was  a  house  of  mourning  ;  and  now  if  they 
kill  my  brother  too,  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do." 

Again  Stephens  felt  the  odd  sense  of  surprise  at  the 
strength  of  her  feelings.  Don  Andres  was  a  fine 
young  fellow  enough  in  his  way,  but  why  all  this  dis- 
play of  emotion  because  he  was  now  to  run  rather  more 
risk  than  usual?  Dimly  he  became  conscious  that  her 
trouble  was  due  to  family  affection,  and  that  he  him- 
self had  forgotten  what  it  was  like.  His  mind  fled 
back  to  his  boyhood,  when  he  and  a  brother  and  sister, 
from  whom  he  had  now  been  long  parted,  used  to  play 
together  ;  memories  of  that  early  fondness  came  back 
with  a  curious  vividness.  A  hard  crust  had  formed 
over  the  gentler  side  of  his  nature  during  the  years  of 
isolation  and  severance  from  those  natural  ties  ;  it 
seemed  ready  now  to  dissolve  in  a  moment  at  a  few 
tears  shed  by  a  girl  for  a  brother's  peril.  Habituated 
as  he  was  to  hold  himself  firmly  in  hand,  he  was  half 
angry  with  himself  for  minding  anything  so  much  as 
he  minded  her  sobs. 


i66  Lone  Pine 

'  Why,  how  fond  you  must  be  of  him  !  "  he  re- 
marked crudely  ;  and  without  his  intending  it,  his 
secret  surprise  showed  itself  in  his  tone. 

"  But  he  is  my  brother,"  she  returned,  and  her  wet 
eyes  met  his  half  indignantly;  "  don't  you  understand 
that  I  must  care  for  him  very  much  indeed  ?  " 

"  Surely  yes,"  he  rejoined.  "  Of  course  I  under- 
stand that"  ;  but  in  his  heart  came  a  denial  that  he 
did  really  understand  it,  or  had  any  right  to  under- 
stand it.  "  If  I  had  been  clubbed  to  death  for  witch- 
craft in  the  ditch  yesterday  by  those  Santiago  idiots," 
he  thought,  "  not  one  human  soul  would  have  cared 
like  this  about  me."  Yes  ;  it  was  quite  true.  There 
was  no  one  now  who  cared  for  him  in  this  way,  with 
this  warmth  of  feeling,  and  there  was  no  one  for  whom 
he  cared  or  could  care.  Thence  came  a  new  sense  of 
something  lacking  in  his  life  ;  even  supposing  that  all 
his  hopes  deferred  were  to  be  realised  at  last,  supposing 
that  to-morrow,  for  instance,  he  became  master  of  a 
mine  worth  a  million,  who  would  rejoice  ?  No  one,  un- 
less it  were  Rocky,  his  old  pard,  who  really  was  n't  a 
bad-hearted  sort  of  fellow,  though  he  could  play  the 
fool  at  times  to  such  exasperating  effect.  But  now  he 
felt  a  sudden  vacancy  in  his  heart  ;  the  need  of  a  com- 
radeship that  should  be  entire,  absolute,  and  inalienable. 

"And  have  you  no  family,  Don  Estevan  ?  "  she 
asked  ;  "no  brother  or  sister  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  I  have  both,  but  I  have  n't 
seen  them  in  ten  years.  They  are  married  and  settled 
down  away  back  there  in  the  States  ;  they  must  have 
half  forgotten  me  by  this  time  ;  I  was  no  more  than  a 
boy  when  I  started  for  the  West,  and  I  've  never  been 
back."  And  at  the  recollection  his  lips  parted,  and 
his  breast  heaved  gently.  An  involuntary  sigh  escaped 


A  Girl's  Tears  167 

him  before  he  knew  what  it  was.  The  sighing  mood 
had  not  been  much  in  his  line.  Manuelita  looked  at 
him  with  a  question  in  her  eyes. 

"  But  you  love  them  still  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Well,  yes,"  he  replied,  "  I  suppose  I  do,  if  it  comes 
to  that.  But  it  is  a  long  time  since  I  saw  them,  and 
much  water  has  run  under  the  bridges  between  then 
and  now." 

' '  Have  the  Americans  no  feelings  ? ' '  she  said  ; 
"  perhaps  it  is  a  good  thing  for  some  people  to  have 
the  heart  hard." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  we  've  got  our  feelings  right  enough," 
he  replied,  with  an  uneasy  smile,  "  but  it  is  n't  our 
way  to  say  much  about  them  ;  at  least,  with  us,  the 
men  don't  like  to  show  them.  As  for  the  American 
women,  I  think  they  show  theirs  freely  enough  ;  but 
upon  my  word  it  is  so  long  since  I  have  seen  any  of 
them  that  I  hardly  know.  No,  senorita,  our  hearts 
are  not  hard. ' ' 

At  this  moment,  Don  Nepomuceno  entered,  bringing 
with  him  one  of  the  three  Mexicans  who  had  been  sit- 
ting with  him  outside.  "  Here  is  my  brother-in-law, 
Don  Estevan,"  he  began,  "  who  says  that  he  will 
gladly  let  me  have  the  pony  that  ate  poison- weed.  He 
says,  too,  that  the  Navajos  have  gone  over  to  the 
store,  and  that  he  suspects  the  Texan  will  sell  them 
whiskey.  It  is  very  wrong  of  him,  for  whiskey  makes 
them  very  dangerous." 

"  It 's  dead  against  the  law,"  said  Stephens  bluntly. 

"  I  know,"  rejoined  the  other,  "  but  it  is  not  easy  to 
prove  it.  But  you  have  eaten  no  breakfast,  my  friend. 
Sit  down  and  have  your  meal."  At  the  entrance  of 
her  father,  Manuelita  had  retired  to  the  kitchen,  leav- 
ing the  sitting-room  to  the  men. 


168  Lone  Pine 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  Stephens,  "  I  will,  then,  by 
your  leave ' '  ;  and  he  sat  down  and  helped  himself, 
while  he  continued  to  discuss  with  the  others  the  con- 
duct of  Mr.  Backus  and  the  chances  of  coming  to  an 
arrangement  with  Mahletonkwa.  The  conversation 
went  on  after  he  had  finished  his  meal,  when  the  sud- 
den sharp  report  of  a  rifle-shot  was  heard  not  far  away. 
All  stopped  and  listened  ;  a  minute  or  two  later  it  was 
followed  by  a  second,  and  then  at  pretty  regular  inter- 
vals by  a  number  of  others. 

"  It  sounds  like  somebody  practising  at  a  mark," 
said  the  American ;  "  do  you  suppose  it 's  Mr.  Backus  ?  ' ' 
He  had  risen  to  his  feet  and  stood  intent. 

"Who  knows?"  said  his  host.  "  For  my  part  I 
know  not  much  about  this  Texan.  It  may  be  so  ;  they 
are  unaccountable  people."  To  throw  away  powder 
and  bullets  on  practice  seemed  to  him  a  piece  of  wanton 
extravagance. 

Stephens  caught  up  his  rifle  into  the  hollow  of  his 
arm.  "  I  think,"  said  he,  "  I  '11  just  step  across  and 
get  that  paper  and  envelopes,  and  I  '11  be  able  to  see 
what  they  're  up  to  over  there  as  well."  The  Mexi- 
cans accompanied  him  to  the  big  door,  which  was  care- 
fully unbarred  to  allow  of  his  departure. 

The  occasional  shots  continued  as  the  American 
walked  down  towards  the  stage  station,  and  he  pre- 
sently discerned  Mr.  Backus  and  the  Navajos  in  a 
group  behind  the  store.  He  went  up  and  joined  them. 
They  had  set  up  an  empty  box  against  a  blank  wall,  and 
fastened  a  piece  of  white  cardboard  against  it  with  a 
nail  through  the  centre,  and  several  black  circles  in 
different  parts  of  the  cardboard  showed  where  bullets 
had  struck.  The  Indians  were  laughing  and  chaffing 
one  another  freely  about  their  shooting  ;  their  manner 


A  Girl's  Tears  169 

had  noticeably  altered  from  the  moody  and  sullen  atti- 
tude they  had  exhibited  at  the  pow-wow. 

Mahletonkwa  came  close  up  to  Stephens  excitedly. 

"  Now,  then,  Don  Americano,  let  's  see  you  take  a 
shot." 

Stephens  smelt  him  ;  there  was  whiskey  in  his  breath. 
"  Not  at  present,  thank  you,"  said  he  shortly.  "  Mr. 
Backus, ' '  and  he  turned  abruptly  on  the  storekeeper, 
"  this  Indian  has  had  something  to  drink.  I  presume 
you  know  it  is  against  the  law." 

"  Well,  if  he  has  nobody  knows  where  he  got  it," 
said  the  storekeeper  defiantly,  "nor  nobody  need 
know." 

He  knew  very  well  himself  that  there  were  now  two 
beautiful  Navajo  blankets  rolled  up  in  his  store  which 
had  not  been  there  an  hour  ago  ;  also  that  his  stock 
was  diminished  to  the  extent  of  two  bottles  of  whiskey. 
The  whiskey  stood  him  in  exactly  one  dollar.  The  pair 
of  Navajo  blankets  were  cheap  at  ten.  Nine  hundred 
per  cent,  profit  was  good  enough  business  for  any  man. 

It  was  a  good  enough  profit,  at  all  events,  to  tempt 
Mr.  Backus;  and  it  needed  to  be  a  good  one,  for  he  was 
not  ignorant  of  the  risk  that  he  ran.  To  give,  trade, 
or  sell  spirituous  liquor  to  an  Indian  is  a  penitentiary 
offence  in  the  United  States.  The  law  is  a  wise  one, 
and,  what  is  more,  is  approved  by  popular  feeling.  A 
drunken  Indian  is  about  as  pleasant  to  meet  with  as  a 
mad  wolf;  he  is  possessed  by  a  demon  that  prompts 
him  to  fly  at  the  throat  of  any  white  man,  woman,  or 
child  he  comes  across  ;  and  an  Indian  who  has  tasted 
liquor  will  go  any  length  till  he  has  obtained  enough 
of  it  to  throw  him  into  this  horrible  frenzy,  if  he  can  by 
any  means  procure  it.  Trading  whiskey  to  an  Indian 
is  like  playing  with  a  tiger.  Up  to  a  certain  point  it  is 


170  Lone  Pine 

pleasantly  exciting.  Go  one  step  beyond  it  and  his 
fangs  are  in  your  jugular.  Mr.  Backus  was  not  a 
novice  at  the  game  ;  he  had  been  there  before.  For 
nine  hundred  per  cent,  he  would  let  them  have  just 
enough  to  whet  their  appetites.  Two  bottles  of  whiskey 
to  eleven  Indians  was  about  the  right  dose  ;  while  half 
a  dozen  would  send  them  crazy,  he  knew. 

"  I  'm  just  letting  them  have  a  few  shots  at  the  mark 
with  my  rifle,"  he  continued.  "  It  tickles  them  to 
death  to  shoot  with  a  breech-loader  ;  they  aint  hardly 
got  any  themselves,  and  it  's  mighty  well  worth  my 
while  to  keep  in  with  them."  He  winked  deliberately. 
"I  've  been  talking  with  them,  and  they  know  all 
about  this  mine  upon  the  Cerro  de  las  Viboras,  just  as 
well  as  those  stingy  Santiago  folks.  I  believe  I  '11  get 
'em  to  show  it  me.  I  tell  you  I  understand  Indians, 
I  'm  an  old  hand  at  dealing  with  them  "  ;  he  gave  a 
self-satisfied  chuckle. 

"  I  should  say  that  last  statement  of  yours  was  highly 
probable,"  returned  the  prospector.  "  Personally,  I 
should  have  said  that  with  this  unsettled  difficulty  on 
hand  with  Don  Nepomuceno  the  very  worst  thing 
possible  was  to  let  them  have  any  drink,  and  the  next 
worst  was  to  encourage  them  to  go  letting  off  a  gun 
like  this  right  close  to  where  he  lives." 

"  And  why  the  deuce  should  I  be  so  cursedly  par- 
ticular about  the  Don  ? ' '  replied  the  storekeeper ;  "  he  's 
an  uncommon  close-fisted  old  hunks,  if  it  comes  to  that  ; 
he  does  most  of  his  trading  in  Santa  Fe  anyway,  and 
don't  encourage  local  talent.  And  I  '11  warrant  you 
he  's  got  a  thumping  big  hoard  of  silver  dollars  buried 
under  the  floor  somewhere  in  that  old  casa  of  his. 
I  don't  see  why  he  should  n't  pay  a  decent  compensa- 
tion to  this  Mahletonkwa  here."  The  chance  of  some 


A  Girl's  Tears  171 

of  those  silver  dollars  passing  from  Mahletonkwa's 
hands  over  his  counter  had  considerably  quickened 
Mr.  Backus' s  sense  of  "  justice  for  the  poor  Indian  "  in 
this  matter.  Also  he  had  had  a  couple  of  drinks  as 
well  as  Mahletonkwa,  and  they  had  loosened  his  tongue 
a  little. 

"  Well,  sir,"  replied  Stephens,  "  I  don't  propose  to 
argue  the  matter  with  you  here,  but  if  you  can  afford 
to  leave  those  precious  customers  of  yours  I  should  like 
to  have  you  come  into  the  store  and  supply  me  with 
some  paper  and  envelopes." 

He  hated  to  have  to  ask  this  man  for  anything,  but 
he  must  procure  these  things,  and  there  was  no  other 
house  in  San  Remo  where  he  could  get  them.  There 
would  not  be  time  before  the  mail  passed  to  return  to 
the  pueblo  and  get  them  from  his  own  stock. 

At  this  moment  Mahletonkwa  fired  again  with 
Backus' s  rifle,  and  a  triumphant  exclamation  followed 
the  shot.  The  Indians  ran  to  the  target,  pointing  with 
pride  to  a  bullet-hole  within  half  an  inch  of  the  central 
nail.  Mahletonkwa  swaggered  up  to  the  American. 
"  Now,  you  shoot,"  he  exclaimed  familiarly,  "  and 
show  us  what  you  can  do. ' ' 

Stephens  had  not  intended  to  do  anything  of  the 
sort.  He  thought  the  Indian's  familiarity,  due  to  the 
couple  of  drinks  he  had  taken,  most  offensive,  and  he 
had  meant  to  leave  them  to  their  sport  with  the  least 
possibly  delay  ;  but  there  was  something  irritating 
about  his  swagger  that  put  the  American  on  his  mettle. 
He  swung  himself  half  round  and  took  a  good  look  at 
the  target,  which  stood  there  in  a  strong  light,  beauti- 
fully distinct,  at  some  five-and- twenty  paces  distance. 

Up  came  the  rifle  to  his  shoulder  ;  for  one  instant  it 
remained  there,  poised  level,  as  he  glanced  down  the 


172  Lone  Pine 

sights  and  got  a  bead  on  the  centre  ;  ' '  bang  !  ' '  came 
the  report,  and  down  fell  the  piece  of  cardboard.  He 
had  driven  up  the  nail. 

The  Navajos  dashed  in  eagerly  to  pick  up  the  paper, 
and  were  loud  in  their  expression  of  wonder  and  ad- 
miration. But  Mahletonkwa's  eyes  were  still  fixed  on 
the  Winchester;  he  came  forward  and  touched  it  lightly 
with  his  hand,  and  turned  with  a  loud  laugh  to  the 
others  who  came  crowding  round  them.  Mahletonkwa 
told  them  a  story  in  the  Navajo  language  which  pro- 
duced roars  of  laughter  from  them  all,  and  Stephens' s 
curiosity  was  excited. 

"What  's  the  joke,  Mahletonkwa?"  said  he. 
"  Why  can't  you  tell  it  in  Spanish  so  the  rest  of  us 
may  have  a  chance  to  join  in  the  fun  ?  "  The  drinks 
had  made  the  Indian  reckless,  and  he  needed  but  little 
urging  to  repeat  the  story. 

1 '  Once  there  was  a  man  out  in  the  mountains  over 
yonder,"  said  he,  pointing  to  the  west,  "  and  he  had 
a  '  heap-shoot '  gun  like  this." 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Ste- 
phens ;  "  an  American  ?  " 

The  Indian  looked  at  him  with  eyes  that  were  both 
bold  and  cunning.  "  I  did  n't  ask  him,"  said  he  ; 
"  he  was  just  a  man." 

"  I  '11  bet  he  was  a  lone  American  prospector,"  re- 
turned Stephens. 

The  Navajo  laughed,  and  there  was  insolence  in  his 
laugh.  "  He  was  alone,"  he  continued,  "  and  the 
people  there  got  after  him " 

' '  What  people  do  you  mean  ?  ' '  asked  Stephens  ; 
"  the  Navajos?" 

The  Indian  laughed  the  same  laugh  as  before. 

"  Oh,  leave  him  finish,"  interjected  Backus  in  Eng- 


A  Girl's  Tears  173 

lish.  "  You  can  bet  he  means  Navajos.  Probably  he 
was  there  himself. ' ' 

"  The  people  got  after  him,"  repeated  the  redskin, 
"  and  he  fired  away  at  them  a  long  time  with  his 
'  heap-shoot '  gun  ;  but  he  could  n't  do  them  any 
harm."  An  insolent  chuckle  accompanied  this  last 
remark. 

"  Could  n't  he  !  "  rejoined  Stephens.  "  If  he  was  an 
American  prospector,  and  there  's  no  other  sort  of  man 
ever  went  there  with  a  Winchester,  I  '11  bet  he  laid 
some  of  them  out. ' ' 

"  And  then,"  continued  Mahletonkwa,  "  one  of  the 
people  shot  him  with  a  common  rifle  here  across  the 
face, ' '  he  drew  his  hand  across  his  forehead,  ' '  and 
the  blood  ran  into  his  eyes  and  he  could  n't  see,  and  the 
blow  of  the  bullet  made  him  stupid,  and  then  the  people 
went  up  to  him  and  he  was  a  prisoner.  And  they  took 
his  gun  and  looked  at  it  with  much  awe,  for  they  had 
never  seen  a  '  heap-shoot '  gun  before.  But  they  did 
not  understand  how  to  make  it  work.  So  they  gave 
him  some  water,  and  wiped  the  blood  from  his  face 
so  that  he  could  see,  and  they  asked  him  to  show 
them  the  secret  of  the  '  heap-shoot '  gun.  And  he  was 
very  happy  then,  and  thought  that  they  were  going  to 
make  friends  with  him,  so  he  told  them  how  to  work 
the  gun,  and  showed  them  how  to  load  it  and  unload  it. 
And  then,  when  they  had  found  out  all  they  wanted  to 
know  about  it,  one  of  them  took  the  '  heap-shoot '  gun 
and  loaded  it  just  as  the  Amer —  the  man  had  shown 
them  how  to  do,  and  pointed  it  at  him  and  pulled  the 
trigger,  and  it  killed  him  quite  dead."  He  exploded 
again  in  a  great  roar  of  laughter,  and  the  rest  of  the 
party  roared  in  chorus  with  equal  mirth. 

Stephens  flushed  a  dark  red,  and  swore  under  his 


i  74  Lone  Pine 

breath.  "  They  were  a  d — d  treacherous,  sneaking  lot 
of  coyotes,  that  's  what  they  were,"  he  said  defiantly 
to  Mahletonkwa,  who  only  laughed  the  more.  "  A 
pretty  lot  of  friends  you  seem  to  have  been  making, 
Mr.  Backus.  I  wish  you  joy  of  them." 

The  latter  looked  rather  uncomfortable.  "  It  was  a 
low-down,  dirty  mean  trick  to  play,"  he  said,  starting 
to  go  towards  the  store,  "  but  Mahletonkwa  aint  said 
as  he  had  any  hand  in  it  himself." 

"  I  reckon  he  was  there,  though,"  retorted  Stephens, 
"  for  it  was  the  sight  of  my  Winchester  that  set  him 
off  to  tell  it.  Rifles  like  that  aint  quite  as  common 
as  blackberries  around  this  country.  I  wish  I  knew 
who  that  prospector  was  that  they  murdered,"  he 
added  meditatively,  as  he  moved  off  to  the  store  after 
Backus  ;  "  I  'd  go  and  bury  him  decently,  anyway,  if  I 
could  find  the  place.  I  hope  he  laid  out  a  score  of  them 
before  they  got  him,  the  mean  hounds.  And  that  's 
their  idea  of  a  funny  story!  "  He  ground  his  teeth  in 
his  anger. 

In  the  store  Mr.  Backus  soon  supplied  the  prospector 
with  writing  materials,  and  promised  to  bring  over  the 
post-office  stamp  presently  to  stamp  Don  Andres's  affi- 
davit. He  seemed  nervously  anxious  now  to  conciliate 
Stephens,  and  to  rub  out,  if  possible,  the  bad  impres- 
sion his  conduct  with  regard  to  the  Navajos  had  left. 
He  fetched  round  Captain  Jinks  from  the  stable  with 
profuse  thanks  for  the  loan,  and  even  reclaimed  his 
rifle  from  the  Navajos  and  put  a  stop  to  their  target 
practice  on  the  ground  that  he  could  not  spare  any 
more  cartridges. 

"  Mahletonkwa,"  said  Stephens,  gathering  up  the 
lariat  of  his  mule  and  addressing  the  chief,  "  I  give  you 
notice  that  I  'm  going  to  have  you  put  back  on  the 


A  Girl's  Tears  175 

reservation.  Take  my  advice  and  lose  no  time  in  ac- 
cepting Don  Nepomuceno's  offer." 

"  I  want  a  thousand  dollars,"  said  the  Indian  dog- 
gedly. 

"  And  I  very  much  doubt  your  getting  it,"  said  Ste- 
phens, turning  on  his  heel  and  walking  off. 

But  as  the  prospector  made  his  way  towards  the 
Sanchez  house  the  thought  of  Manuelita's  tears  came 
back  to  him.  After  all,  what  was  a  thousand  dollars  ? 
It  was  a  lot  of  money  to  be  sure,  but  if  it  would  guar- 
antee young  Andr6s's  safety,  and  put  an  end  to  her 
anxiety,  it  might  be  worth  while  to  part  with  it.  The 
brutal  laughter  of  the  Indians  over  the  cruel  deception 
they  had  so  cunningly  practised  on  the  wounded  Ameri- 
can who  had  the  ill  fortune  to  fall  into  their  hands  had 
angered  him  deeply.  He  had  from  the  first  kicked 
against  the  idea  of  paying  them  anything,  but  if  some 
blackmail  was  to  be  paid  to  them,  he  saw  no  difference 
in  principle  between  a  thousand  dollars  and  a  hundred 
and  twenty-five.  And  it  came  into  his  head  Rocky  had 
just  offered  to  repay  him  the  thousand  dollars  he  had 
lent  him  in  Montana.  The  idea  occurred  to  him,  why 
not  pass  it  on  ?  He  might  lend  it  to  Don  Nepomuceno 
to  pay  off  the  Navajos  with,  and  the  Mexican  might 
repay  him  at  his  leisure,  or  pass  it  on  again  on  a  fitting 
occasion  to  some  other  man  in  a  bad  strait.  Backus' s 
idea  of  Don  Nepomuceno  possessing  a  great  hoard  of 
buried  silver  dollars  seemed  to  him  a  wild  and  improb- 
able conjecture,  considering  what  a  stew  he  was  in 
about  raising  a  hundred  and  twenty-five. 

He  stabled  his  mule  alongside  the  mare,  and,  after 
knocking,  was  admitted  to  the  casa  with  the  same  pre- 
caution as  before.  A  table  and  ink  were  set  before 
him,  and  a  full  statement  of  the  case  written  for  the 


176  Lone  Pine 

benefit  of  the  governor  and  also  of  the  general  at  Santa 
Fe.  An  affidavit  by  Don  Andres  was  duly  drawn  up 
in  Spanish  and  English,  and  according  to  his  promise 
Mr.  Backus  arrived  with  the  stamp  of  the  San  Remo 
post-office  to  stamp  it.  Stephens  sealed  up  the  letters, 
and  accompanied  him  to  the  door  and  put  them  in  his 
hands  to  be  forwarded. 

"  Them  Indians  have  gone  off  down  the  river  a  mile, 
to  where  there  's  grass,  to  let  their  horses  feed,  and  to 
eat  a  bite  themselves,"  said  the  storekeeper  ;  "  and  I 
reckon  likely  they  '11  be  more  amiable  when  they  get 
back  here  again  later  on.  Anyways,  I  hope  as  they 
will.  I  told  that  Mahletonkwa  as  he  'd  orter  be  rea- 
sonable." All  the  time  Backus  had  been  in  the  house 
he  had  fawned  on  Don  Nepomuceno  in  a  way  that  had 
made  Stephens  sick  when  he  remembered  how  he  had 
called  him  a  "  close-fisted  old  hunks"  an  hour  before, 
and  he  watched  the  storekeeper  returning  to  his  own 
abode  with  a  feeling  of  absolute  disgust. 

Turning  back  into  the  patio  he  found  himself  in  the 
presence  of  Manuelita,  who  was  crossing  it  on  some 
errand.  As  all  the  doors  gave  on  the  patio,  it  acted,  so 
to  speak,  as  the  passage  by  which  everybody  went  from 
any  one  room  to  any  other,  except  where  two  or  three 
rooms  opened  into  each  other  en  suite.  "  Senorita," 
he  said,  "  one  word  with  you,  if  I  may.  It  would 
really  make  you  very  happy,  it  would  make  your  heart 
quite  free  of  sorrow,  if  this  money  were  paid  and  things 
settled  in  that  way  ?  " 

"Oh,  Madre  de  Dios ! '"  she  exclaimed,  "but  can 
you  doubt  it  for  an  instant  ?  I  would  dance  for  joy  "  ; 
and  her  eyes  grew  brighter  on  the  instant  with  the 
thought. 

"  Very  well,"  answered  Stephens  cautiously,  "  I  '11 


A  Girl's  Tears  177 

see  what  can  be  done.  I  '11  promise  you  to  do  my  best 
to  bring  about  a  peaceful  settlement.  I  can't  say 
more. ' ' 

He  went  back  into  the  sitting-room  and  wrote  a  third 
letter  to  the  cashier  of  the  First  National  Bank  at  Santa 
Fe,  where  he  kept  a  small  balance.  He  asked  the 
cashier  to  telegraph  to  Rockyfeller  at  Denver  to  say 
that  he,  Stephens,  was  unavoidably  detained  at  Santi- 
ago, and  to  ask  Rockyfeller  to  send  the  thousand  dol- 
lars to  his  account  at  the  Santa  Fe  bank,  and  he 
likewise  wrote  a  cordial  answer,  to  Rocky 's  letter,  ex- 
plaining matters  at  length.  As  soon  as  he  had  finished 
these  he  hastened  with  them  to  the  post-office.  The 
ambulance  which  brought  the  mail  from  Fort  Wingate 
stood  before  the  door,  and  a  fresh  team  was  being  har- 
nessed to  it,  while  Mr.  Backus  was  in  the  act  of  bring- 
ing out  the  little  San  Remo  mail-bag,  and  at  sight  of 
Stephens  stowed  it  hastily  inside. 

For  the  little  San  Remo  mail-bag  was  all  but  empty. 
The  two  fat  letters  Stephens  had  entrusted  to  him  for 
the  governor  and  the  general  were  not  inside  it ;  their 
thin  papery  ashes  lay  amid  the  glowing  coals  of  the 
cedar- wood  fire  on  Mr.  Backus' s  kitchen  hearth,  and 
had  helped  to  cook  the  stage-driver's  dinner.  The  im- 
peccable United  States  postmaster  had  opened  and  read 
them  ;  decided  on  the  spot  that  he  did  not  want  these 
Navajos  interfered  with  just  at  present  ;  and  had  taken 
this  summary  method  of  blocking  the  game. 

"  Here 's  a  couple  more  letters,"  exclaimed  Stephens, 
running  up.  "Can't  you  put  them  in  ?  "  and  he  held 
them  out  to  Backus  in  total  ignorance  of  his  perfidy. 

"  Bag  's  sealed  up  now,"  said  the  postmaster  offi- 
cially. "  Contrary  to  U.  S.  regulations  to  open  it 
again. ' ' 


178  Lone   Pine 

Stepens  turned  instantly  to  the  mail-driver.  "  I 
wish  you  'd  oblige  me  by  posting  these  for  me  when 
you  get  to  Santa  Fe.  They  're  stamped  all  right." 

The  driver  held  out  his  hand  for  the  letters  and 
shoved  them  carelessly  into  the  pocket  of  his  overcoat. 

"  Mind  you  don't  forget  to  post  them,"  repeated  Ste- 
phens ;  "  they  're  important."  At  this  instant  there 
came  into  his  mind  a  thing  that  he  had  forgotten,  so 
absorbed  had  he  become  in  the  troubles  of  the  Sanchez 
family.  Some  stage-driver  had  libelled  him  to  Sam 
Argles,  and  he  had  intended  to  find  out  who  it  was. 
Probably  this  was  the  man.  "  Say,"  he  began,  "  do 
you  remember  driving  a  man  named  Sam  Argles,  a 
miner  from  Prescott,  over  this  line  a  month  or  two 
back?" 

"  Can't  say,  I  'm  sure,"  replied  the  driver,  who  was 
shortening  a  trace  with  some  difficulty.  '  You  don't 
suppose  as  I  can  remember  the  names  of  all  the  pas- 
sengers I  take  ?  ' ' 

"Well,  Argles  was  over  this  line  recently,"  said 
Stephens,  "  and  he  reports  that  a  driver  on  it  told  him 
something  about  me." 

"  Likely  he  did,"  said  the  driver  unconcernedly  ; 
"  like  as  not,  too,  't  war  n't  me.  I  aint  the  only 
driver  on  this  line." 

"  Then  you  deny  having  told  him  I  was  a  squaw- 
man  ?  "  said  Stephens. 

"  Dunno  nawthin'  about  it,"  replied  the  driver, 
gathering  up  the  lines  and  climbing  to  his  perch. 
"  It  's  no  concern  of  mine."  But  he  avoided  meeting 
Stephens' s  ^ye. 

"  Well,  so  long,"  said  the  latter  ;  "  I  'm  obliged  to 
you  about  the  letters,"  and  without  further  comment  on 
the  matter  he  started  back  towards  the  Sanchez  house. 


A  Girl's  Tears  179 

"  A  d — d  highfalutin,  tonified  cuss  he  is,"  said 
Backus  as  soon  as  the  prospector  was  out  of  earshot. 
' '  If  you  was  to  drop  them  letters  in  the  Rio  Grande 
it  'd  serve  him  right  for  bouncing  you  like  that." 

"  He  dursn't  say  nuthin'  to  me,"  said  the  driver, 
"  or  I  'd  mash  his  face  in  a  minute.  What  do  I  know 
about  his  Sam  Argleses  ?  I  reckon  he  is  a  squawman, 
aint  he?" 

"  Wai',  if  he  aint,  what  does  he  live  with  them  In- 
juns for?  That  's  what  I  say,"  said  Backus  with  an 
evil  laugh.  "  And  I  think,  if  I  was  you,"  he  added, 
"  I  'd  be  apt  to  have  an  accident  with  them  letters  cross- 
ing the  Rio  Grande." 

"  There  's  a  chance  for  it  anyway,"  said  the  stage- 
driver  ;  "  the  river  was  rising  fast  day  before  yester- 
day, and  I  judge  't  will  be  booming  by  now.  I  've 
got  to  rustle  around,  for  I  'm  going  straight  across 
to  San  Miguel.  I  can  cross  there  with  the  mail, 
anyway.  Get  up  there,  mules."  He  raised  the  reins, 
cracked  his  whip  and  departed. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A  STERN  CHASE 

Felipe  but  have  known  what  the  stage- 
driver  knew,  that  the  rise  of  the  river  had  begun 
two  days  ago,  he  would  never  have  made  the  sad  mis- 
take of  taking  the  straight  route  to  Ensenada.  Alas, 
now,  when  he  and  Josefa  reached  the  spot  where  the 
ford  should  have  been,  his  cry,  "  Valgame  Dios,  the 
river  is  up,"  was  only  too  true.  As  they  passed 
through  the  grove  of  cottonwoods  they  beheld  right 
from  their  feet  to  the  farther  bank,  full  a  half-mile  off, 
a  turbid  yellow  flood,  rolling  rapidly  southward  to- 
wards Texas  and  the  Gulf,  twelve  hundred  miles  away. 
All  autumn  and  winter  long,  a  broad  expanse  of  dry 
water-worn  pebbles  and  boulders,  and  beds  of  shingle 
and  sand,  through  which  ran  half  a  dozen  easily  forded 
streams  of  clear  water,  had  been  all  that  lay  between 
La  Boca  on  the  west  bank  and  Ensenada  on  the  east. 
During  those  seasons  both  horses  and  waggons,  and 
people  on  foot  by  picking  their  way  through  the  shal- 
lows, could  cross  almost  anywhere  without  wading 
much  above  knee-deep.  But  all  autumn  and  winter 
long,  on  the  great  mountain  ranges  of  Colorado,  two 
hundred  miles  away  to  the  north  where  the  river  had 
its  sources,  the  snows  of  successive  storms  had  been 
piled  up  deeper  and  deeper.  And  now  the  sun  was 

iflo 


A  Stern  Chase  181 

well  past  the  vernal  equinox,  and  his  growing  heat  had 
loosened  those  snows  and  was  sending  their  cold  floods 
down  ten  thousand  gulches  and  tributaries  to  swell  the 
current  of  the  Rio  Grande.  This  takes  place  every 
April,  and  Felipe  ought  to  have  thought  of  it,  but  he 
was  young  and  had  not  yet  learned  to  think  of  every- 
thing. This  was  a  possibility  he  had  forgotten. 

"  It  must  have  come  down  in  the  last  two  days,"  he 
groaned,  as  he  looked  hopelessly  at  the  flood.  "  I 
know  Juan  and  Miguel  passed  here  only  three  days 
ago  from  Santa  Fe,  and  it  was  all  jright  then,  and  now 
it  is  like  this." 

"  We  are  lost,"  said  Josefa.  "  What  shall  we  do, 
Felipe?" — even  her  brave  heart  succumbing  to  this 
unexpected  calamity. 

"  Don't  cry,  dear  heart,  don't  cry,"  said  he  tenderly, 
taking  her  in  his  arms,  and  lifting  her  from  the  horse. 
"  Perhaps  there  is  a  boat.  I  will  go  and  see."  He 
pulled  the  bridle  from  the  horse's  head.  "  Do  you 
rest  here  a  minute,"  he  said,  spreading  his  blanket  for 
her  to  rest  her  weary  limbs,  ' '  and  let  him  feed  here  on 
the  green  grass,  but  don't  let  him  drink.  I  will  run 
back  to  La  Boca  and  ask."  He  threw  her  the  rope, 
and  darted  back  like  the  wind  in  the  direction  of  the 
houses  they  had  lately  passed.  The  unkempt  Mexican 
was  milking  a  cow  in  the  corral  as  Felipe  dashed  up 
breathless.  "  Where  is  the  boat  ?  "  he  asked  eagerly. 
"  Is  it  running  ?  Is  it  this  side  ?  " 

"The  boat?"  said  the  Mexican  slowly,  going  on 
with  his  milking.  "  No,  friend.  The  river  only  came 
down  like  this  yesterday.  It  was  high  the  day  before, 
but  we  could  still  ford  it  up  above.  It  was  yesterday 
it  came  down  big. ' ' 

The  leisurely  manner  of  the  man,  and  the  indefinite- 


182  Lone  Pine 

ness  of  his  reply,  were  maddening  to  the  excited 
Indian. 

"  Yes,  but  the  boat,"  he  almost  shouted,  "  the  boat, 
where  is  it  ?  " 

The  Mexican  had  finished  milking  his  cow,  and  put- 
ting down  the  milk  jar  he  began  to  unfasten  the  raw- 
hide strap  with  which  her  hind  legs  were  tied. 

' '  The  boat,  friend  ?  ' '  said  he  ;  "  there  is  no  boat 
here  now.  L,ast  year  Don  Leandro  had  the  boat,  but 
she  is  hauled  up,  and  they  say  there  is  a  hole  in  her. 
Perhaps  he  will  talk  of  getting  it  mended  after  a  while. 
I  suppose  the  Americano  at  the  mail  station  in  Ense- 
nada  will  be  wanting  to  send  the  mail  across  next 
week." 

' '  Valgame  Dios  !  ' '  cried  the  boy.  ' '  And  will  there 
be  no  way  of  getting  over  the  river  till  next  week  ? ' ' 

"  The  water  will  have  run  by  in  a  month,  or  per- 
haps in  three  weeks,  if  God  wills  it,"  remarked  the 
Mexican  piously  ;  "  and  then,  friend,  you  can  cross 
without  a  boat." 

' '  And  is  there  no  boat  anywhere  up  or  down  the  river 
on  this  side  ?  ' '  exclaimed  Felipe.  ' '  Is  there  no  way 
over?" 

"  There  are  the  Indians  at  San  Miguel,  eight  leagues 
below,"  said  the  man,  proceeding  to  take  down  the 
bars  of  the  corral  for  the  purpose  of  turning  out  the 
cow  to  pasture.  "  They  have  a  bridge  of  single  logs 
to  cross  on  foot  by.  I  do  not  know  if  the  river  will 
have  carried  it  down.  Probably  not.  They  have  land 
on  both  sides,  and  are  always  crossing." 

"  Eight  leagues  below  !  "  cried  the  young  Indian  in 
a  despairing  voice.  "  And  a  sandy  road  from  here 
they  say — deep  sand,  is  it  not?"  He  followed  the 
man  and  the  cow  outside  the  corral. 


A   Stern   Chase  183 

"  Yes,  friend,"  said  the  man,  "  it  is  deep  sand  along 
the  river.  But  there  is  a  better  way  :  to  take  the  trail 
to  Santiago  as  far  as  the  Banded  Mesa  and  then  turn 
to  the  left.  So  you  keep  up  on  the  mesas  the  whole 
way,  and  it  is  better  going. ' ' 

'Thanks,  sir;  adios"  said  Felipe;  and  without 
waiting  for  more  discourse  he  tore  along  back  towards 
Josefa  as  fast  as  he  could  run. 

She  was  lying  on  the  blanket  where  he  had  left  her, 
and  holding  the  end  of  the  lariat.  Felipe  rushed  up  to 
the  horse  and  began  to  bridle  him: 

;<  There  is  no  boat,  sweetheart,"  he  panted,  "  but 
there  is  a  bridge  of  the  Indians  at  San  Miguel.  Let  us 
go  there.  We  can  leave  the  horse  with  the  Indians  on 
this  side,  and  get  a  horse  from  some  of  them  on  the 
other,  and  come  on  to  Ensenada  that  way.  Make 
haste." 

Once  more  he  lifted  her  to  the  saddle,  and  springing 
up  behind  her  turned  the  horse's  head. 

'  They  must  be  after  us  long  ago,"  said  he  wearily, 
looking  at  the  sun,  which  was  already  well  up.  "  I 
expect  they  are  half-way  here  by  this  time.  They  will 
be  here  in  a  little  while." 

"  My  father  will  have  no  horse,"  suggested  Josefa, 
trying  to  make  the  best  of  it. 

"  Oh,  he  will  take  the  Americano's.  Don  Estevan 
will  lend  it  to  him,'"  said  Felipe  bitterly.  "  The  ca- 
cique can  take  what  he  wants." 

He  revolved  their  position  in  his  mind.  If  he  rode 
the  back  trail  as  far  as  the  Banded  Mesa,  and  there 
turned  off  the  trail  just  where  it  was  hard  and  stony, 
he  would  be  almost  certain  to  throw  the  pursuers  off 
the  track.  But  could  he  reach  the  Banded  Mesa  before 
they  got  there  ?  That  was  the  question.  He  con- 


184  Lone  Pine 

sidered  it  well.  It  was  an  up-hill  road,  and  the  horse, 
gallantly  as  he  had  carried  his  double  burden,  was  be- 
ginning to  flag.  He  doubted  whether  to  try  it  did  not 
mean  running  into  the  very  jaws  of  the  lion.  It  seemed 
more  hopeful  to  turn  out  as  soon  as  they  were  out  of 
sight  of  the  people  at  L,a  Boca,  and  go  down  parallel  to 
the  Rio  Grande,  trusting  to  the  sand,  which  was  here 
in  drifts  almost  like  the  seashore,  being  so  loose  that 
no  definite  trail  of  theirs  could  be  traced. 

On  this  idea  he  acted.  But  no  sooner  were  they  in 
the  deep  sand  than  the  tired  horse  could  no  longer  raise 
the  semblance  of  a  gallop.  Felipe  sprang  off  and  ran 
on  foot,  urging  the  horse  on.  Relieved  of  half  his  load 
he  went  better,  but  even  under  the  most  favourable 
circumstances  the  deep  sand  was  very  heavy  going, 
and  their  progress  was  but  slow.  Thus  they  struggled 
on  for  two  weary  miles,  and  Felipe  kept  uttering  words 
of  encouragement  to  his  mistress,  whose  silence  pro- 
claimed her  sinking  spirits  ;  but  all  the  time  his  eyes 
kept  turning  in  the  direction  of  the  Santiago  trail,  for 
every  moment  he  expected  their  pursuers  to  appear. 

Suddenly  on  the  brow  of  the  topmost  of  the  low,  roll- 
ing hills  that  rose  between  the  Rio  Grande  and  the 
mesas,  his  keen  sight  discerned  a  black  speck,  which 
he  knew  had  not  been  there  a  minute  before.  In  the 
clear  air  of  New  Mexico,  and  over  those  bare,  open 
downs  far-off  things  are  seen  with  amazing  distinct- 
ness ;  but  at  that  distance  it  was  impossible  to  say  for 
certain  what  it  was.  Felipe  said  nothing  of  it  to 
Josefa  ;  what  was  the  use  of  adding  unnecessarily  to 
her  terrors.  He  kept  his  eye  vigilantly  on  the  object 
of  his  suspicions. 

"It  is  no  use  to  try  to  hide,"  said  he  to  himself. 
"  There  is  n't  cover  enough  among  these  scattering 


A  Stern  Chase  185 

juniper  bushes  to  hide  a  sheep.  If  it  is  a  man  he  can 
see  us  as  plain  as  we  do  him,  and  he  will  know  what 
we  are  by  our  actions.  If  it  is  a  cow  or  a  horse  feeding, 
it  will  move  slowly  about ;  if  it  is  a  man  riding,  he  will 
move  straight  on  in  a  minute  or  two,  and  then  I  shall 
know." 

His  uncertainty  did  not  last  long.  Before  five  min- 
utes elapsed  the  speck  moved  again,  and  this  time  it 
descended  the  hill  straight  towards  the  fugitives,  till  it 
was  lost  to  sight  behind  the  brow  of  a  nearer  ridge. 
There  was  no  longer  any  doubt  left  in  Felipe's  mind. 

"  Ay  de  mi  !  "  said  he  to  his  mistress,  "  we  are  pur- 
sued. It  is  one  man  only,  as  far  as  I  can  see.  It  must 
be  your  father,"  and  he  urged  the  horse  on  freshly. 

' '  Run,  run,  Felipe ! ' '  said  the  girl.  ' '  Hide  yourself 
somewhere !  He  will  kill  you  if  he  catches  us.  Never 
mind  me.  He  won't  kill  me,  you  know." 

"  No,  not  that  !  I  can't  do  that  !  "  he  cried  ;  but 
dark  despair  came  over  him.  His  feet  seemed  like  lead 
as  he  struggled  forward.  He  looked  over  his  shoulder 
again.  The  black  speck  had  reappeared  again  much 
closer  and  much  larger  ;  it  was  a  galloping  horseman. 
His  last  hope  fled.  "  There  he  comes  !  "  he  cried — 
and  he  seized  the  horse's  bridle,  and,  turning  him  to 
the  left,  headed  him  straight  for  the  Rio  Grande,  which 
was  but  a  few  hundred  yards  away. 

'What  are  you  doing?  Where  are  you  going, 
Felipe?"  exclaimed  Josefa,  troubled  at  this  sudden 
change  of  direction  and  at  the  sudden  fury  of  his  face. 

1 '  Where  am  I  going  ?  "  he  echoed  bitterly.  ' '  Don 
Estevan  told  me  yesterday  that  I  must  come  to  the  Rio 
Grande  to  find  water  enough  to  drown  myself,  and  I 
am  going  to  see. ' ' 

They  came  near  the  brink  of  the  rushing  river.     Be- 


186  Lone  Pine 

hind  them  the  galloping  horseman  was  fast  closing  up 
the  gap  that  separated  them.  Felipe  recognised  his 
style  of  riding.  "  It  is  your  father  !  see  !  "  he  cried  in 
a  voice  of  despair,  "  but  he  sha'n't  separate  us  now," 
and  he  urged  the  horse  towards  the  water's  edge. 

"  Oh  stop,  Felipe,  stop  !  What  madness  is  this  ?  " 
cried  the  girl,  and  she  drew  rein  and  pulled  up.  Felipe 
seized  the  bridle,  his  face  aflame  with  baffled  passion. 

"Loose  the  rein!"  he  cried  to  her  desperately. 
"  I^et  the  horse  come  on.  He  will  carry  you  over.  I 
can  swim." 

"  Oh,  you  are  mad!  "  said  she,  gazing  on  the  wide 
rolling  flood  and  the  distant  shore  beyond.  "  Don't 
dream  of  such  a  thing.  We  shall  both  be  drowned." 

"  Well,  let  us  drown,  then  ;  we  shall  be  together," 
he  exclaimed  passionately.  "  Give  him  the  rein. 
Cotne  on.  Better  that  than  to  be  beaten  like  dogs  and 
separated."  As  he  spoke  he  looked  over  his  shoulder 
and  saw  that  Salvador,  his  face  raging  with  anger,  was 
within  a  few  yards  of  them.  Felipe  raised  his  arm  to 
strike  Josefa's  horse,  and  force  him  to  take  the  desperate 
plunge  into  the  boiling  current. 

The  desperate  plunge  was  never  taken.  A  shot 
cracked.  Felipe  felt  a  great  blow,  and  his  right  arm 
fell  powerless  to  his  side.  Salvador  was  close  by  with 
a  smoking  pistol  in  his  hand.  Josefa's  terrified  horse 
wheeled  round  and  bounded  away  in  terror  from  the 
bank  of  the  dreaded  river.  Salvador  dashed  in  between 
her  and  Felipe  and  fired  at  him  again.  Felipe  hardly 
knew  if  he  was  hit  again  or  not,  but  instinctively  he 
ran  off  some  fifty  yards  and  then  stopped.  Wounded 
and  weaponless,  what  could  he  do  against  the  murder- 
ous firearm  in  the  hands  of  the  cacique  ? 

"Yes,  run,  you  villain,  you  scoundrel!"  shouted 


A  Stern  Chase  187 

Salvador.  "  Run,  and  don't  stop  within  a  hundred 
leagues  of  me!  If  ever  I  catch  you  near  the  village 
again  I  '11  kill  you —I  will,"  and  he  poured  forth  a 
torrent  of  abuse  at  the  wretched  youth  who  stood  there 
on  the  river's  bank  the  very  picture  of  misery,  the 
blood  running  down  his  right  arm  and  dropping  from 
his  hand  to  the  ground.  Josefa  saw  him,  and  over- 
come with  pity  and  fear  for  him  turned  her  horse  to- 
wards him,  but  the  animal,  dreading  the  water,  refused 
to  approach  it. 

Salvador  rode  up  to  her  and  seized  her  rein.  "  Ah. 
traitress,  ungrateful,  disobedient'!  "  hissed  his  angry 
voice.  "I  '11  settle  with  you  for  this  piece  of  work,  be 
sure."  And  leaving  Felipe  he  started  away  from  the 
river,  dragging  the  horse  and  its  rider  after  him  across 
the  sand-dunes. 

The  horse  followed  not  unwillingly,  but  too  slowly 
for  Salvador's  impatience.  He  dropped  the  rein,  pulled 
his  horse  behind,  and  striking  the  other  violently  with 
his  whip  forced  him  into  a  gallop.  The  position  was  a 
tempting  one  to  his  passion,  and  the  cruel  rawhide  fell 
once  and  again,  not  on  the  horse  only  but  also  on  his 
rider.  The  girl  uttered  no  sound  and  made  no  resist- 
ance, only  she  bent  forward  over  the  animal's  neck  be- 
fore the  shower  of  blows.  At  this  pitiful  sight  her  lover 
gave  a  great  cry  of  despair  and  started  forward  to  the 
rescue,  wounded  and  unarmed  as  he  was.  But  bleed- 
ing, exhausted,  and  on  foot,  it  was  hopeless  for  him  to 
attempt  to  overtake  the  horses.  He  made  one  despair- 
ing rush  with  all  his  failing  strength,  then  he  fell  head- 
long and  lay  senseless  on  the  sand. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE   ROD   DESCENDS 

THE  cacique  made  straight  for  the  pueblo,  driving 
his  wretched  prisoner  before  him.  The  poor  girl, 
sick  at  heart  and  stupefied  with  grief  and  fatigue, 
picturing  to  herself  Felipe  dead  of  his  wounds  or 
drowning  himself  in  his  despair,  submitted  unresist- 
ingly to  the  blows  and  the  reproaches  of  her  father. 
He  was  the  stronger  ;  how  could  she  resist  ? .  She  let 
herself  be  driven  back  like  a  strayed  beast  of  burden 
over  the  same  leagues  of  burning  mesa  and  sandy  ravine 
that  she  had  traversed  in  the  coolness  of  the  night  under 
the  silence  of  the  stars.  Then  she  had  her  lover's  arms 
round  her  and  his  voice  whispering  words  of  love  in  her 
ear  ;  now  she  shrank  before  bitter  curses  and  the  sting- 
ing lash.  Yet  never  did  she  open  her  lips  to  utter  a 
word  in  self-defence  or  a  plea  for  pardon.  Only  she 
kept  saying  over  and  over  to  herself  in  time  to  the 
hoof-beats  of  the  horse,  "  He  may  beat  me,  he  may  kill 
me,  but  Ignacio  I  won't  have."  Even  sunk  in  misery 
as  she  was,  she  found  a  surprising  comfort  in  steeling 
herself  to  endure,  and  swearing  to  be  true  to  herself  and 
to  Felipe. 

There  is  a  limit  to  the  staying  powers  of  even  the 
toughest  of  Indian  ponies,  and  by  the  time  the  cacique 
and  his  captive  had  covered  half  the  distance  back  to 

188 


The  Rod  Descends  189 

Santiago,  the  horse  of  the  storekeeper  which  he  was 
mounted  upon,  and  his  own  which  carried  his  daughter, 
were  both  showing  painful  signs  of  exhaustion.  The 
cacique,  unwilling  to  run  the  risk  of  injuring  his  own 
animal,  left  the  trail  and  made  for  a  spring  that  he 
knew  of  a  few  miles  off  to  one  side,  near  the  foot  of  the 
mountains,  where  they  found  both  water  and  grass. 
Here,  in  a  sullen  silence,  they  remained,  till  long  after 
the  sun  had  set  and  the  weary  day  ended.  The  cacique 
was  nursing  his  wrath  till  he  should  have  got  her  safely 
home  again,  when  he  would  make  an  example  of  her. 
Not  till  the  Great  Bear  had  sunk  well  below  the  pole  did 
they  remount  their  now  rested  steeds  and  set  out  once 
more  for  the  pueblo  ;  it  was  grey  dawn  when  they  came 
in  sight  of  it  at  last,  and  presently  the  well-known  step- 
like  outline  of  the  terraced  roofs  of  Santiago  showed 
sharp  and  clear  among  the  peach  orchards  ahead  of 
them.  As  they  entered  its  precincts  they  passed 
through  quite  a  crowd  of  onlookers  ;  they  had  been 
observed  descending  from  the  mesas,  and  natural  curi- 
osity had  brought  numbers  to  see  the  excitement. 
Poor  Josefa  dropped  her  head  in  shame  to  escape  the 
hard,  inquisitive  looks. 

They  stopped  at  her  father's  door.  He  pulled  her 
roughly  from  the  saddle,  pushed  her  inside,  and  giving 
the  horses  to  two  of  the  boys,  he  entered  after  her,  shut 
the  door,  and  bolted  it.  He  advanced  towards  her  with 
glowing  eyes.  The  blows  he  had  given  her  on  the  road 
had  only  whetted  his  passion.  "  Now,  you  she-devil," 
said  he,  "  I  '11  teach  you  to  run  away  from  me." 

He  flung  her  to  the  ground  and  stood  over  her.  The 
cruel  rawhide  descended  again  and  again.  The  eager 
crowd  outside  was  squeezing  up  against  the  door  and 
the  little  close-barred  lattice  window,  anxious  to  see  as 


190  Lone  Pine 

much  as  possible  of  the  exciting  scene  inside.  They 
had  no  notion  of  interfering.  On  the  contrary,  it 
seemed  to  them  entirely  natural  that  a  father  should 
chastise  his  disobedient  daughter.  "  If  he  did  n't,  who 
was  to  ?  " — that  was  the  way  they  would  have  put  it. 

Among  the  crowd  was  Tito.  Tito  was  a  friend  of 
Felipe's,  and  what  was  a  source  of  curiosity  to  others 
was  maddening  to  him.  There  came  into  his  mind  the 
thought  of  the  American,  and  he  resolved  to  call  him 
to  the  rescue. 

Stephens,  after  despatching  his  letters,  as  he  believed, 
on  the  previous  day,  had  returned  to  the  house  of  Don 
Nepomuceno.  He  had  done  all  he  could  to  set  the 
proper  authorities  in  motion,  and  now,  finding  that  the 
Navajos  had  taken  themselves  off  and  not  returned,  so 
that  it  was  impossible  to  go  on  with  the  negotiations, 
he  took  his  leave  of  the  Sanchez  family  and  hastened 
back  to  the  pueblo.  The  more  he  thought  of  the  fury 
the  cacique  had  displayed  in  the  morning,  the  more 
uneasy  he  felt  as  to  what  might  happen  when  he  should 
overtake  Felipe  and  Josefa.  But  when  he  learnt,  on 
his  arrival,  that  nothing  further  was  known  since  the 
cacique  had  galloped  away  on  their  tracks,  he  settled 
in  his  mind  that  no  news  was  good  news,  and  waited 
quietly  for  matters  to  develop  themselves.  He  rose  be- 
fore dawn  the  following  morning,  only  to  be  told  once 
more  that  nothing  had  been  heard  of  the  fugitives  or 
of  the  cacique,  and  he  was  now  busy  wiping  out  his 
rifle,  when  there  came  a  hasty  knock  at  the  door,  and, 
forgetful  of  the  bulldog,  Tito  burst  headlong  into  the 
room.  "Oh,  Don  Estevan  !  "  he  exclaimed  breath- 
lessly, "  Salvador  is  back,  and  he  is  beating  his  daugh- 
ter like  fury.  Perhaps  he  will  kill  her." 

"  The  dickens  you  say  !  "  said  the  American,  drop- 


The  Rod  Descends  191 

ping  his  work  abruptly  and  making  for  the  door. 
"  Where  's  Felipe  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Tito.  "  He  's  not  there. 
Perhaps  the  cacique  has  killed  him." 

Tito  knew  nothing  of  the  sort,  but  the  temptation  to 
deepen  the  shadows  of  a  harrowing  tale  is  quite  irre- 
sistible. 

1 '  Where  are  they  ?  ' '  said  Stephens,  as  soon  as  they 
were  in  the  open  air. 

"  Here,  in  his  house,"  cried  Tito  eagerly,  leading 
the  way. 

Stephens  paused  and  stood  irresolute.  "  After  all, 
it  's  none  of  my  funeral,"  growled  he  to  himself.  "  I 
have  n't  any  call  to  interfere.  And  I  have  n't  got  any 
weapon  on  me  neither."  He  turned  back  to  get  his 
pistol,  but  paused  again.  "  No,"  he  said,  "  I  don't 
want  it.  Maybe  I  sha'n't  do  anything,  and  if  I  do, 
I  'd  better  go  through  on  my  nerve."  He  knew  that 
an  appeal  to  physical  force  was  idle  where  the  odds 
were  one  against  a  hundred,  and  that  his  only  chance 
lay  in  moral  influence. 

He  followed  Tito.  It  was  plain  enough  where  the 
scene  was  taking  place  by  the  crowd  at  the  door. 
Stephens  went  up.  The  sound  of  blows  was  audible 
from  inside,  but  no  cry  was  heard  from  the  victim. 
1 '  Where  are  the  chiefs  ?  Where  are  Tostado  and 
Beni to  and  the  rest?"  he  asked.  He  would  gladly 
have  had  the  support  of  the  seniors  of  the  village,  but 
they  were  much  too  dignified  to  appear  at  this  per- 
formance. The  mob  consisted  of  boys,  young  men, 
and  some  of  the  poorer  and  less  well-thought-of  people. 

No  one  answered  Stephens's  question.  He  listened; 
the  blows  continued.  "  He  can't  be  allowed  to  murder 
her, ; '  he  cried.  ' '  The  whole  pueblo  will  get  into  a  row 


192  Lone  Pine 

with  Government  if  that  happens."  He  collared  two 
or  three  boys  out  of  the  press.  "  Here  you,  Jose, 
Tomas,  Juan  Antonio,  run  and  fetch  Tostado  here  and 
the  other  chiefs.  Say  I  want  them  to  come. ' ' 

The  boys  obeyed  him  ;  and  the  American,  squeezing 
into  the  gap  he  had  made  in  the  crowd,  knocked  loudly 
at  the  door.  There  was  no  answer  to  the  knock,  but 
the  blows  stopped.  He  knocked  again,  calling, 
"  Hullo,  Salvador  !  Hullo  there  !  " 

"  Look  out,  Don  Estevan,"  called  out  some  of  the 
boys.  "  He  's  furious.  Maybe  he  '11  go  for  you." 

He  listened  for  an  answer,  but  none  was  given. 
Then  came  the  sound  of  the  whip  again.  Stephens 
shouted  again,  but  in  vain.  He  looked  round  for  the 
chiefs.  There  was  no  sign  of  any  of  them  yet. 

"  I  can't  stand  this  any  longer,"  said  he.  "  Give 
me  room,  you  fellows."  He  stood  back  four  or  five 
feet  from  the  door,  and  raising  his  right  foot  dashed  it 
against  the  lock. 

The  fastenings  were  old  and  the  door  flew  open.  He 
stepped  over  the  threshold  and  entered.  The  crowd 
behind  him  hung  back.  In  the  middle  of  the  floor, 
full  length  on  her  face,  lay  the  form  of  Josefa.  Her 
arms  were  bare  ;  she  had  thrown  them  up  to  protect 
her  head,  and  the  marks  of  the  whip  were  only  too 
visible.  She  lay  perfectly  silent  and  still,  a  slight 
quivering  of  her  limbs  alone  showing  that  she  was 
alive.  The  Indian  stood  across  her  with  his  uplifted 
whip  in  his  hand.  He  glared  fiercely  at  the  American 
who  advanced  towards  him. 

Stephens  did  not  meet  the  cacique's  eye.  He  was 
looking  down  at  the  prostrate  figure  on  the  ground. 
"  So  you  've  brought  her  back,  Salvador,"  he  re- 
marked in  an  unruffled,  every-day  voice. 


The   Rod  Descends  193 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  he  replied  brutally  ;  "  and  I  've 
given  her  something  to  keep  her  from  ever  running 
away  again." 

' '  It  looks  like  it, ' '  said  Stephens. 

He  took  one  hand  out  of  his  pocket,  stooped  down, 
and  felt  her  head.  "  It  looks  like  she  'd  never  run 
anywhere  again,"  he  said. 

He  did  not  really  believe  that  she  was  killed,  but  he 
thought  it  politic  to  assume  so.  His  position  placed 
him  absolutely  at  the  mercy  of  the  Indian  ;  but  his 
voice,  his  manner,  and  his  action  conveyed  the  as- 
sumption that  it  was  absolutely  impossible  that  the 
Indian  should  dream  of  attacking  him. 

His  coolness  succeeded.  The  cacique  lowered  his 
whip  and  stepped  back,  while  Stephens  moved  the 
girl's  arms  gently  from  her  head.  They  fell  limp  on 
the  earthen  floor. 

Stephens  had  seen  some  wild  doings  in  Californian 
mining  towns,  but  he  never  had  seen  a  woman  beaten 
in  his  life.  Those  limp  arms  sent  a  queer  thrill  through 
him.  A  sudden  fury  rose  within  him,  but  he_  mastered 
it.  He  felt  her  head  all  over  slowly  and  carefully  to 
see  if  the  skull  was  fractured — as  indeed  it  might  well 
have  been  had  she  been  struck  with  the  loaded  whip- 
handle.  This  gave  him  time  to  think  of  his  next 
move. 

"  If  you  've  killed  her,  you  '11  be  hanged  for  it,  Sal- 
vador," he  said  at  last,  in  a  perfectly  matter-of-fact 
tone.  '  You  and  she  are  not  citizens,  but  you  '11  be 
hanged  all  the  same.  The  law  of  the  Americans 
reaches  here  ;  understand  that. ' ' 

The  Indian,  whose  passion  was  really  more  under 
control  than  seemed  to  be  the  case,  was  somewhat 
cowed  at  Stephens' s  deliberate  statement,  but  he  re- 


194  Lone   Pine 

joined  sullenly,  "She's  not  dead.  Lashes  don't 
kill." 

"  You  will  have  to  answer  for  it  if  she  dies,"  said 
Stephens  getting  up.  He  had  satisfied  himself  that 
the  girl  was  not  seriously  injured. 

"  Not  to  you  then,"  said  the  Indian,  his  courage  re- 
viving, when  he  realised  that  the  threat  was,  after  all, 
blank  cartridge,  seeing  that  the  girl  was  alive.  He 
tried  to  work  himself  into  a  rage  again.  '  What  do 
you  break  into  my  house  for  and  interfere  with  me  ? 
I  '11  do  what  I  like  with  my  own."  He  stepped  for- 
ward close  to  Stephens,  between  him  and  Josefa.  ' '  Go 
out,  or  I  '11  kill  you!  "  he  said,  raising  his  voice  to  a 
tone  of  fury. 

For  a  moment  the  American  paused,  uncertain.  The 
Indian  was  a  powerful  man,  full  as  big  and  strong  as 
himself,  well  armed  with  knife,  pistol,  and  loaded  whip, 
to  say  nothing  of  his  fifty  friends  outside  the  door. 

The  hesitation  was  momentary.  "  I  can't  leave  this 
girl  to  that  brute's  mercy,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  Per- 
haps I  can  back  him  down." 

He  looked  Salvador  square  in  the  eyes.  "  Where  's 
Felipe?"  said  he  calmly.  "You  must  answer  for 
him,  too.  Have  you  killed  him  ?  " 

"  None  of  your  business,"  said  the  Indian  roughly. 
"  Be  off !  "  and  he  raised  his  hand. 

At  this  moment  Josefa,  hitherto  as  still  as  a  corpse, 
turned  her  face  from  the  floor,  but  without  rising.  She 
looked  up  at  Stephens.  "  He  gave  him  two  shots," 
she  said,  in  a  voice  wonderfully  steady  considering  the 
pain  she  was  enduring.  "  I  saw  him  fall." 

' '  Then  I  arrest  you  for  the  murder  of  Felipe.  You 
are  my  prisoner.  Give  up  your  arms." 

The  only  answer  the  cacique  made  to  this  demand 


The  Rod   Descends  195 

was  to  take  out  his  revolver,  but  instead  of  surrender- 
ing it  he  thrust  the  muzzle  in  Stephens's  face,  cocking 
it  as  he  did  so. 

The  steady  gaze  of  the  American  met,  without  quail- 
ing, the  black,  flashing  eyes  of  the  Indian.  Grey  eyes 
against  black,  white  man  against  red,  the  strife  is  as  old 
as  the  history  of  the  continent  they  stood  upon  ;  per- 
haps it  will  last  as  long. 

"You  can  kill  me,  I  know,  of  course,"  said  the 
American,  speaking  very  slowly  and  distinctly  ;  "  but 
you  can't  kill  all  the  soldiers  of  the  Government.  You 
may  kill  me  to-day,  but  to-morrow  the  soldiers  will 
come  from  Santa  Fe  and  take  you  prisoner  ;  and  if  you 
make  your  people  resist  they  will  destroy  you.  The 
Navajos  were  twenty  thousand,  but  the  soldiers  con- 
quered them.  You  are  only  three  hundred.  They 
will  conquer  you  and  take  you  away  as  they  did  the 
Navajos,  as  they  did  the  Jicarillas,  as  they  have  done 
the  Modocs."  He  raised  his  left  hand  very  gently  and 
took  hold  of  the  pistol  barrel.  "  Don't  destroy  your 
people,  Salvador,"  he  continued.  "  You  know  I  wish 
them  well.  L,oose  it." 

The  Indian's  grasp  relaxed  ;  he  drew  a  deep  breath 
and  stepped  back.  Stephens  lowered  the  pistol  to 
his  own  right  hand,  muzzle  upwards,  uncocked  it,  and 
placed  it  in  his  waist-belt. 

"  Now  come  with  me  to  my  room,"  said  he,  taking 
him  gently  but  firmly  by  the  arm.  The  struggle  for 
the  mastery  was  over  ;  the  Indian  had  yielded  ;  he 
obeyed  unresistingly.  As  they  stepped  out  of  the 
house,  Stephens  said  to  Tito,  "  Tell  the  women  to  see 
to  the  girl." 

Outside  they  found  Tostado  and  the  other  chiefs  ap- 
proaching— not  too  fast.  It  was  very  plain  that  they 


196  Lone  Pine 

did  not  want  to  interfere  in  the  matter.  Stephens  took 
his  man  towards  them. 

"  Look  here,  Tostado,"  said  he  as  soon  as  they  met, 
"  I  have  arrested  Salvador  for  shooting  Felipe.  I  am 
going  to  take  him  to  Santa  Fe,  to  the  agent  and  to  the 
governor.  Now  I  want  some  of  you  to  go  along  and 
see  that  it  is  all  right  and  square." 

Stephens  had  been  reflecting  during  the  course  of  the 
night  on  the  events  of  the  previous  day,  and  it  had  oc- 
curred to  him  that  accidents  did  sometimes  happen, 
and  that  his  letters  to  the  governor  and  the  general 
might  possibly  go  astray.  He  had  no  special  reason  to 
suspect  what  Mr.  Backus  had  actually  done,  but  he  had 
a  general  feeling  of  uneasiness  with  regard  to  the  San 
Remo  post-office.  The  idea  had  been  already  in  his 
mind  to  go  to  Santa  Fe  and  lay  the  affair  of  the  Nava- 
jos  before  the  authorities  in  person,  and  now  this 
difficult  matter  of  the  arrest  of  the  cacique  was  a  double 
reason  for  doing  it. 

The  Indians  began  to  converse  among  themselves. 

"  Come  along  to  my  room,  then,  and  talk  it  over," 
said  Stephens,  and  he  went  ahead  with  his  prisoner, 
reluctantly  followed  by  the  chiefs. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   FEE   IS  ACCEPTED 

THE  whole  party  came  into  Stephens' s  room  and 
settled  themselves  round  the  wall  on  the  floor, 
much  as  they  had  done  the  night  before.  Stephens 
seated  his  prisoner  on  a  stool  in  the  middle,  and  taking 
the  cacique's  revolver  from  his  belt  laid  it  on  the  table. 
As  he  did  so,  he  drew  the  attention  of  Tostado,  who 
was  next  to  him,  to  the  two  recently  discharged  cham- 
bers in  the  cylinder.  ' '  Those  were  the  shots, ' '  said 
he. 

"  Maybe  so,  Don  Estevan,"  answered  the  Indian 
suavely.  "  Doubtless  you  are  right  in  what  you  say, 
as  you  always  are.  We  know  that  your  honour  is  very 
wise  and  very  just.  But  before  we  do  anything  about 
it  we  want  to  know  what  Salvador  has  to  say ;  we  have 
not  heard  him  yet." 

"  I  do  not  want  to  conceal  anything,"  said  the  ca- 
cique abruptly.  "  I  saw  them  from  the  top  of  the  hill 
that  leads  down  from  the  mesas  to  La  Boca.  I  went 
straight  to  the  river  to  them.  He  was  on  foot  driving 
my  horse,  trying  to  drive  him  into  the  river.  I  fired 
at  him  once,  twice.  He  ran  away  and  stopped.  I 
took  my  horse  and  my  daughter,  and  I  brought  them 
home.  He  ran  after  us,  but  he  fell  down.  I  saw  him 
lying  there  the  last  thing  from  the  hill.  If  he  is  dead, 
he  is  dead.  I  do  not  know  any  more. " 

'97 


198  Lone  Pine 

His  story  was  so  straightforward  and  simple  that  it 
was  convincing. 

"Where  did  you  say  all  this  happened?"  asked 
Stephens. 

' '  On  the  river,  down  below  L,a  Boca  a  league, ' '  an- 
swered the  Indian. 

The  chiefs  began  to  question  him  about  the  details 
of  the  affair.  He  described  to  them  the  position  of  the 
fugitives  when  he  overtook  them,  and  the  refusal  of  the 
terrified  horse  to  enter  the  swollen  river. 

'  Then  Felipe  was  not  riding  your  horse,"  observed 
Stephens,  who  was  listening,  for  in  deference  to  him 
they  spoke  in  Spanish  for  the  time  being. 

"  No,  he  was  on  foot.  He  was  driving  the  horse," 
was  the  reply  of  the  cacique. 

' '  I  suppose  your  daughter  was  on  the  horse  ? ' '  said 
Stephens. 

"  Yes,  he  was  taking  them  both  along,"  answered 
the  Indian. 

"  How  old  is  she?  "  asked  the  prospector.  "She 
looks  almost  a  woman  grown." 

The  Indian  reflected  a  little  while,  "  She  was  a  little 
child  so  high,"  he  answered  at  last,  "  when  there  was 
the  great  war  in  the  States,"  and  he  held  his  hand  at  a 
height  to  indicate  a  child  of  ten  years  old. 

"  She  must  be  eighteen  now,  then,"  said  Stephens. 

"  I  suppose  so.  Yes,  if  you  say  so,"  admitted  the 
Indian. 

"  Then  she  is  not  a  child,"  said  Stephens,  "  and  she 
can  marry  him  or  anyone  she  likes.  You  have  no  right 
to  prevent  her.  Understand  that.  This  is  a  free 
country.  By  the  law  a  woman  is  as  free  as  a  man  ;  she 
may  go  where  she  likes  and  marry  whom  she  likes.  She 
is  not  a  slave,  and  don't  you  think  any  such  thing. 


The  Fee  is  Accepted  199 

No  American  can  strike  a  woman  ;  that  is  the  deepest 
of  shames. ' ' 

He  paused  after  this,  for  him,  unusually  long  speech, 
which  was  intended  quite  as  much  for  the  benefit  of  the 
other  Indians  as  the  cacique.  The  American  felt  a 
little  elated  at  the  thought  that  single-handed  he  had 
been  able  to  arrest  their  cacique  in  their  midst,  and  he 
could  not  resist  improving  the  occasion. 

There  was  a  minute's  silence,  and  then  Tostado  fixed 
his  keen  black  eyes  on  the  American's  face.  "  Listen 
to  me,  Sefior  Don  Estevan, ' '  he  said.  ' '  The  Americans 
have  their  way;  that  is  good  for  them.  The  Mexicans 
have  their  way;  that  is  good  for  them.  And  the  wild 
Indians, — the  Utes,  and  the  Comanches,  and  the  Nava- 
jos  too, — they  have  their  own  ways.  And  we,  we 
have  our  laws.  We  don't  change  them.  I  know  if 
one  Indian  kills  another,  then  the  law  of  the  Americans 
is  to  judge  him  ;  but  the  rest  of  the  things  we  manage 
among  ourselves.  The  Government  gives  us  that 
right.  We  have  our  own  alcalde.  We  have  our  own 
customs.  And  when  men  and  women  do  wrong  to- 
gether we  beat  them.  Then  they  are  afraid.  That  is 
why  our  women  are  so  good.  Not  like  the  Mexicans. 
That  is  good  for  us.  We  do  not  want  to  change." 

"  But,"  cried  Stephens,  "  if  it  is  your  custom  to  beat 
the  women  like  dogs,  you  ought  to  change  it.  Every- 
body knows  that  that  it  is  shameful." 

"  For  the  Americans,"  said  the  old  Indian,  with  the 
air  of  a  man  making  an  extremely  reasonable  conces- 
sion, "  I  do  not  say  anything.  L,et  them  have  their 
ways,  and  treat  their  women  as  seems  good  to  them. 
So  they  are  content  ;  that  is  right.  But  we  have  our 
ways;  we  do  not  want  to  change;  we  are  content  to  be 
as  we  are. ' ' 


2OO  Lone   Pine 

Stephens  felt  nonplused.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he 
was  not  much  of  a  success  as  a  missionary  on  the  rights 
of  women,  and  he  felt,  too,  that  in  this  discussion  he 
had  wandered  from  the  main  point.  After  all,  he  had 
arrested  his  man  for  the  murder  of  Felipe,  and  not  for 
beating  his  daughter,  though  his  motive  in  doing  so 
had  been  to  rescue  the  helpless  woman. 

"  You  have  heard  Salvador's  story,"  he  said  to  the 
chiefs  abruptly.  "  Suppose  we  go  and  hear  that  of  the 
witness,  if  she  is  able  to  speak." 

They  assented  at  once,  and  Stephens,  bidding  Salva- 
dor himself  remain  where  he  was,  led  the  way.  On 
arriving  at  the  house,  they  found  the  girl  laid  on  some 
skins  in  an  inner  room.  Stephens  went  into  the  room 
and  knelt  down  beside  her,  the  others  remaining  beyond 
the  open  door. 

She  opened  her  eyes,  and  perceiving  who  it  was  gave 
him  a  meaning  look.  '  You  have  saved  me  once, ' '  she 
whispered  ;  ' '  can  you  save  me  again  ?  She  is  making 
poison  for  me.  I  have  seen  ' ' ;  and  her  eyes  turned  to- 
wards her  step-mother,  who  was  mixing  something  in  a 
gourd  at  the  end  of  the  room. 

Stephens  gave  a  low  whistle.  ' '  This  is  a  queer  busi- 
ness," he  muttered  to  himself.  "  I  wonder  if  the  girl 's 
telling  lies.  Maybe  she  's  off  her  nut.  Likely  enough, 
after  such  a  hammering.  The  old  woman  does  n't  look 
such  a  bad  lot.  After  all,"  he  went  on  thinking,  "  per- 
haps I  had  better  get  her  away.  These  folks  can  be 
pretty  low-down  when  they  try." 

' '  Can  you  move  ?  ' '  said  he  to  the  girl.  ' '  Can  you 
walk  ?  " 

' '  Yes, ' '  she  answered  ;  "  I  am  quite  strong.  Only  I 
am  looking  how  to  escape." 

Neither  fatigue,  nor  bodily  pain,  nor  mental  torture, 


The  Fee  is  Accepted  201 

had  robbed  her  of  her  senses,  or  tamed  her  spirit.  Since 
the  blows  which  she  had  endured  with  such  stoical 
courage  had  ceased,  she  had  been  collecting  herself, 
conquering  the  pain,  and  trying  to  think.  She  had 
recognised  a  friend  in  the  touch  of  Stephens' s  hand, 
and  in  the  tones  of  his  voice.  She  had  made  up  her 
mind  to  appeal  to  him  if  possible  for  aid,  and  now  here 
he  was  at  her  side. 

"  Can  you  take  me  away  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"  All  right,"  he  answered.  "  I  '11  see  what  I  can 
do." 

"  Probably,"  he  mused,  "  they  will  say  all  sorts  of 
ugly,  low-down  things  about  me  for  this,  but  I  can't 
leave  her  here  at  the  mercy  of  these  woman-beaters, 
and  that 's  all  there  is  to  it.  If  I  can  take  two  or  three 
of  the  principal  men  along,  I  don't  see  why  she 
should  n't  come  to  Santa  Fe  with  us,  if  she  's  up  to  it  ; 
but  I  don't  want  any  more  confounded  scandal  than  I 
can  help." 

He  got  up  and  went  to  the  door  and  addressed 
Tostado.  "  She  is  able  to  get  up,  and  to  talk,"  he 
said.  "  It  will  be  best  to  have  her  come  over  to  my 
room  there  and  hear  what  she  has  to  say." 

They  assented.  The  American  felt  all  through  that 
though  the  chiefs  did  not  directly  oppose  him,  their 
feeling  was  against  him.  He  led  the  way,  and  they 
followed  reluctantly.  Josefa,  a  blanket  thrown  over 
her,  and  drawn  over  her  head  so  as  to  conceal  her  face 
all  but  the  eyes,  accompanied  Stephens,  but  so  stiffly 
and  painfully  did  she  walk  from  the  effects  of  the  vio- 
lence she  had  suffered,  that  the  idea  of  her  being  able 
to  undertake  a  journey  became  out  of  the  question. 

They  entered  the  American's  room,  and  sat  down  as 
before,  the  girl  sitting  on  the  ground  near  the  fire- 


2O2  Lone  Pine 

place.  She  answered  the  questions  put  to  her  in  a  low 
but  firm  voice. 

Her  statement  tallied  exactly  with  the  cacique's. 
She  had  seen  her  lover's  blood  flow,  and  the  last  she 
had  seen  of  him  as  she  looked  back  was  his  figure 
stretched  on  the  sand.  After  hearing  her  evidence, 
Stephens  felt  no  doubt  that  Felipe  had  been  murdered. 

"  I  must  secure  her  somehow,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  She  '11  be  wanted  as  a  witness.  I  suppose  his  con- 
fession alone  won't  be  enough.  And  she  certainly  be- 
lieves the  cacique's  wife  '11  kill  her  if  I  leave  her  there. 
She  aint  fit  to  go  to  Santa  Fe,  and  it  would  be  simply 
brutal  to  ask  it  of  her.  No,  I  '11  have  to  try  another 
plan.  The  only  way  to  save  her  is  to  have  them 
acknowledge  that  I  have  the  right  to  protect  her." 

;'Tostado,"  said  he,  addressing  the  fine  old  man 
whose  wisdom  and  force  of  character  made  him  by  far 
the  most  influential  of  the  chiefs,  "  you  told  me  just 
now  that  you  had  your  own  customs  that  you  did  not 
want  ever  to  change. ' ' 

' '  Yes,  seiior, ' '  said  he. 

;<  Well,  it  is  your  custom,  is  it  not,  that  an  unmarried 
woman  belongs  to  her  father,  and  that  he  can  give  her 
to  anyone  he  pleases  ?  ' ' 

1 '  Yes, ' '  said  Tostado  ;  ' '  that  is,  he  can  give  her  to 
any  man  in  the  pueblo  that  is  not  of  her  family.  But 
we  should  not  allow  him  to  give  her  to  any  man  in  an- 
other pueblo.  We  do  not  allow  the  women  of  Santiago 
to  go  away. ' ' 

"  Well,"  continued  Stephens,  "  last  night  when  I  had 
blasted  the  ditch  for  you,  you  all  came  here  and  wanted 
me  to  stay  with  you  always  ;  and  you  said  that  every- 
thing you  had  was  mine,  and  that  whatever  I  asked  you 
for  you  would  give  me.  Is  not  that  so  ?  " 


The  Fee  is  Accepted  203 

"Yes,"  said  Tostado  simply.  "You  speak  the 
truth."  A  general  murmur  of  assent  confirmed  his 
statement. 

"  Now,"  said  Stephens,  "  I  'm  going  to  ask  you  for 
something,  and  I  shall  see  whether  Indians  mean  a 
thing  when  they  say  it.  I  ask  you  for  the  daughter 
of  Salvador — for  Josefa. ' ' 

There  was  a  general  movement  of  surprise.  The 
Indians  talked  eagerly  to  one  another,  but  in  their 
own  language,  so  that  they  were  unintelligible  to  the 
American.  Presently  Tostado  spoke. 

' '  How  do  you  mean  ?  ' '  said  he,  addressing  Stephens. 
' '  As  your  wife  ? ' ' 

"  As  wife,  as  servant,  as  anything  I  like,"  he  an- 
swered. "  You  say  now  she  belongs  to  Salvador.  I 
want  her  to  belong  to  me. ' ' 

The  Indians  again  conversed  among  themselves. 

"  But  she  's  promised  to  Ignacio,"  said  her  father  to 
the  others.  "  The  padre  's  coming  to-morrow." 

' '  That  makes  no  odds, ' '  said  one.  ' '  Ignacio  does  n '  t 
want  her  now  she  has  run  off  with  Felipe. ' ' 

"  It  does  n't  make  any  difference  if  he  does,"  said 
another.  "  He  's  a  cowardly  old  creature  ;  he  won't 
do  anything." 

"  Give  him  another  daughter,"  said  a  third,  "  in- 
stead. One  that  won't  run  away,"  he  added  in  an 
aside  for  the  benefit  of  the  rest.  "  Perhaps  he  will 
give  you  six  cows  if  you  warrant  her  to  stop."  The 
three  cows  of  old  Ignacio' s  bargain  were  no  secret  in 
the  pueblo. 

The  general  opinion  seemed  to  be  that  after  the  affair 
of  last  night  both  Salvador  and  Ignacio  would  be  well 
rid  of  Josefa  on  any  terms. 

"  Besides,"  said  the  first  speaker,  with  a  meaning 


204  Lone  Pine 

look  towards  the  American,  "  if  he  really  wants  her, 
so  much  the  better  for  you.  He  will  be  as  good  as 
your  son-in-law.  He  will  never  give  you  up  to  the 
agent  and  the  governor  then.  Much  better  do  it  at 
once. ' ' 

Salvador  rose  from  his  seat,  and  going  towards  the 
fireplace  took  the  girl  by  the  shoulder. 

' '  Come  here, ' '  said  he. 

She  winced  at  his  touch,  but  she  got  up  and  obeyed 
him.  He  took  her  to  the  American.  "  Here  she  is," 
he  said  aloud  before  them  all.  "  I  give  her  to  you. 
Keep  her  and  do  what  you  like  with  her.  From  now 
on  she  is  not  mine  any  longer  but  yours. ' ' 

"  Do  you  all  agree  to  that,"  said  Stephens,  turning 
to  the  chiefs. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply.     "  Yes  ;  it  is  good." 

Stephens  turned  to  the  crowd  who  were  peeping  in 
at  the  door.  ' '  Tell  Reyna  I  want  her,  some  of  you, ' ' 
said  he. 

In  a  minute  the  old  squaw  was  fetched,  and  pushed, 
looking  rather  sheepish  and  surprised,  into  the  middle 
of  the  room.  While  she  was  coming,  Stephens  had 
disappeared  into  the  inner  room  and  now  came  out 
again  with  some  bags  in  his  hands. 

"Look  here,  Reyna,"  he  began.  "They  have 
given  Josefa  to  me.  She  belongs  to  me  now.  I  want 
you  to  take  care  of  her  for  me.  I  '11  pay  you  for  your 
trouble.  Here  is  flour  and  meat  and  coffee  and  sugar 
for  the  present. ' ' 

Reyna  was  taken  aback,  and  looked  shyly  round  at 
the  company.  The  Indians  at  once  confirmed  what 
Stephens  had  told  he.".  She  took  the  bags  from  his 
hands,  and  made  her  way  out  again  through  the 
crowded  doorway  with  a  queer  look  on  her  puzzled 


The  Fee  is  Accepted  205 

face.  She  did  not  quite  know  what  this  unaccountable 
American  was  up  to. 

Stephens  followed  her  with  the  girl.  They  entered 
the  house  of  Reyna  together. 

"  You  will  be  quite  safe  here  with  her,"  he  said  in  a 
kindly  voice.  "  I  '11  see  that  you  come  to  no  harm." 

The  girl  turned  to  him  to  thank  him,  but  no  words 
would  come.  She  was  fairly  worn  out  with  the  strain 
of  this  last  trying  scene,  added  to  her  fatigue  and  cruel 
anxiety  about  Felipe's  fate. 

"  Here,  Reyna,"  said  the  prospector,  noticing  her 
condition,  "  this  girl  's  about  played  out.  You  had 
better  see  to  her  at  once,"  and  turning  on  his  heel 
he  left  the  house,  closing  the  door  carefully  behind 
him. 

As  soon  as  he  was  outside  he  looked  closely  at  the 
group  of  young  men.  ' '  Tito, ' '  he  called. 

Tito  came  to  him,  and  they  walked  together  a  little 
apart  from  the  rest.  "  Look  here,  Tito,"  began  Ste- 
phens, "  I  've  got  a  job  for  you.  I  know  you  are  a 
friend  of  Felipe's.  I  want  you  to  go  and  look  for  him. 
Take  my  little  mule  and  put  your  saddle  on  him.  Go 
over  to  the  Rio  Grande  and  look  along  near  the  river 
about  a  league  below  La  Boca.  If  you  find  him  dead, 
get  a  man  from  there  to  help  you  with  the  body.  If 
he  's  only  wounded,  have  him  taken  care  of,  or  bring 
him  back  if  you  can.  Tell  him  he  need  not  be  afraid 
now.  Here  's  two  dollars  for  expenses.  Mind  you 
get  some  corn  for  the  mule  at  La  Boca.  Off  with  you 
as  soon  as  you  can." 

Tito  did  not  need  telling  twice.  "  I  '11  do  just  what 
you  say,  Don  Estevan,"  he  said,  as  he  stowed  the 
money  in  a  little  pouch  on  his  belt,  and  away  he  flew 
like  the  wind. 


206  Lone  Pine 

The  American  returned  to  his  own  house.  He  found 
Tostado  awaiting  him  at  the  door.  The  other  chiefs 
had  disappeared.  Salvador's  wife  had  come  with  food 
which  she  had  prepared  for  her  husband. 

"  It  was  time  for  breakfast,  Don  Estevan,"  explained 
Tostado,  ' '  and  they  have  gone  home.  The  woman  has 
brought  Salvador's  here." 

"  He  could  have  eaten  with  me  for  all  that,"  said 
Stephens,  "  but  we  had  n't  decided  about  who  was  to 
go  to  Santa  Fe  with  me.  Will  you  ?  " 

l(  Well,  I  have  no  horse  here,  Don  Estevan,"  said 
the  old  man.  "  After  breakfast  we  will  see  about  it." 

:<  Very  well,"  said  Stephens  in  a  grumbling  tone. 
"  I  suppose  we  must  wait  their  pleasure.  It  is  n't 
much  running  off  to  breakfast  there  'd  be  if  it  was  any- 
thing they  wanted  to  do." 

However,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait,  and  Ste- 
phens had  plenty  of  time  to  do  his  own  cooking  in  the 
interval.  It  was  nearly  an  hour  before  the  chiefs  were 
reassembled — having,  indeed,  to  be  sent  for  by  Stephens 
individually  ;  but  by  persistence  he  got  them  together 
at  last  and  proceeded  to  business. 

"  Now,  friends,"  he  began,  "  who  is  going  with  me 
to  Santa  Fe  ?  Don't  all  speak  at  once,"  he  added  in 
English  for  his  own  benefit,  smiling  grimly  as  he  saw 
the  blank  look  on  their  faces  as  he  renewed  his  unwel- 
come proposal. 

' '  Will  you  go,  Benito  ?  "  he  said,  determined  to  press 
them  one  by  one. 

The  Indian  instead  of  replying  conversed  rapidly 
with  the  others.  They  had  hoped  that  the  transfer  of 
Josefa  to  Stephens  niighi  have  modified  the  American's 
absurd  passion  for  what  he  considered  to  be  justice. 

"  Look  here,  Don  Estevan,"  began  Benito,   "it  is 


The  Fee  is  Accepted  207 

better  to  wait.      To-morrow,   when  Tito  gets  back, 
then " 

"Oh,  nonsense!"  broke  in  Stephens  impatiently, 
"  Tito  may  n't  be  back  for  a  week,  and  it  makes  no 
odds  about  him  anyhow." 

"  But,"  interrupted  Ramon,  another  of  the  chiefs, 
"  we  have  got  no  horses  here.  You  have  your  own 
mare,  and  the  mule  for  Salvador,  but  we  have  none. 
When  Tito  comes  back  with  your  other  mule ' ' 

"  Oh,  Tito  be  bothered  !  "  said  the  American.  "  I 
tell  you  we  don't  want  him." 

Suddenly  there  was  a  shout  outside.  A  Mexican 
rider  came  tearing  up  the  village,  and  reined  his  reek- 
ing horse  on  to  his  haunches  at  Stephens' s  door. 
Flakes  of  bloody  foam  flew  from  the  bit,  and  the  horse- 
man's rowels  were  red.  He  sprang  into  the  room, 
covered  with  sweat  and  dust  from  the  road. 

1 '  The  Senorita  Sanchez !  "  he  exclaimed  breathlessly, 
' '  the  Senorita  Sanchez  has  been  carried  off  by  the  Nava- 
jos  in  the  night."  All  present  leapt  to  their  feet. 

' '  What ! ' '  cried  Stephens,  ' '  Manuelita  ?  "  He  stood 
aghast. 

"  Yes,"  repeated  the  Mexican  ;  "  the  Senorita 
Manuelita  Sanchez  is  in  the  hands  of  those  villains." 

<(  Of  that  Mahletonkwa  !  "  the  American  exclaimed, 
seizing  his  rifle  ;  "  but  how  ?  and  where  are  they  ?  " 

"  Quien  sabe?"  said  the  Mexican,  "  esperate,  Don 
Estevan ;  wait  a  moment,  senor,  till  I  tell  you,"  for 
Stephens  had  caught  up  his  saddle  and  was  making  for 
the  door.  "  All  we  know  is  that  she  is  gone  ;  the 
tracks  of  the  Navajos  are  all  round  the  house  and  on 
the  roof,  and  it  is  guessed  that  they  entered  so,  in  the 
night,  while  everybody  was  asleep,  and  carried  her 
off." 


208  Lone  Pine 

"What  idiots!"  exclaimed  Stephens.  "Why 
did  n't  they  keep  a  watch  ?  " 

' '  Who  could  have  dreamed  of  such  an  attempt  ?  ' ' 
replied  the  Mexican.  "  The  doors  were  fastened  safe. 
No  one  thought  of  their  getting  over  the  roof.  But  it 
is  proved  that  they  must  have  done  so  ;  their  moccasin 
tracks  are  there  on  the  roof  to  show  it.  And  they 
have  fled  with  her  to  the  westward  ;  the  tracks  of  their 
horses  go  all  up  the  valley  of  the  Agua  Negra.  They 
have  got  a  long  start.  But  Don  Nepomuceno  and  Don 
Andres  have  raised  a  party ;  they  have  got  all  the  men 
they  could  in  San  Remo  and  gone  on  their  trail  :  they 
are  hoping  to  overtake  them." 

"Can  I  catch  up  with  them?"  asked  Stephens 
hoarsely.  "  By  George  !  but  I  wish  I  had  stayed 
down  there  last  night  ;  but  how  could  I  or  anyone  have 
imagined  such  a  thing  as  this  ?  Poor,  poor  girl  !  " 

He  forgot  the  cacique,  his  prisoner  for  having  shot 
down  Felipe  ;  he  forgot  Josefa,  lying  there  next  door 
dependent  on  his  protection  ;  for  the  moment  all  these 
things  vanished  from  his  mind  before  this  dreadful 
catastrophe. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  Mexican,  "  you  will  be  able 
to  catch  them — they  have  but  an  hour's  start  of  you  ; 
you  will,  that  is,  if  you  can  follow  their  trail,  for  you 
have  a  good  mare.  But  what  they  want  you  to  do 
— what  I  came  here  to  say,  what  Don  Nepomuceno 
begged  me  to  urge  on  you — is  to  bring  with  you  some 
of  these  Indians  of  the  pueblo  to  assist  him  in  following 
the  trail  of  the  Navajos.  Our  friends  here  of  Santiago 
did  good  service  as  trailers  for  Coronel  Christophero 
Carson  during  the  war  against  the  Navajos  ;  Don 
Nepomuceno  is  sure  they  will  follow  you,  too,  against 
the  Navajos  if  you  will  ask  them." 


The  Fee  is  Accepted  209 

Stephens  paused  and  pondered  a  moment.  His  first 
impulse  had  been  to  mount  at  once  and  gallop  straight 
in  pursuit.  But  there  was  wisdom  in  Don  Nepomu- 
ceno's  counsel  ;  most  assuredly  the  Indians  would  be 
invaluable  if  they  came,  and  clearly  there  was  nothing 
else  he  could  do  that  would  be  half  so  useful  as  to  bring 
them.  And  with  reflection  came  back  the  image  of  the 
helpless  Josefa,  and  he  instantly  realised  that  if  he 
could  take  the  cacique  along  with  him  her  position 
would  become  ever  so  much  safer;  for  he  could  not  be 
blind  to  the  fact  that  as  soon  as  he  was  gone  she  might 
yet  be  in  danger  supposing  that  the  cacique  remained 
behind.  Yes,  in  every  way  it  would  be  better  to  enlist 
the  cacique  for  the  pursuit ;  he  decided  to  try  and  do 
so  on  the  spot. 

"  This  is  a  shocking  thing  that  the  Navajos  have 
done,"  he  said  to  the  Indians  around  him,  "  and  they 
will  have  to  smart  for  it.  You  have  all  heard  the  sug- 
gestion made  by  this  gentleman,"  he  looked  at  the 
Mexican  as  he  spoke,  "  and  I  entirely  agree  with  it. 
Cacique,  will  you  and  a  party  of  your  warriors  come 
with  me  on  the  war-trail  against  these  scoundrels  ? 
You  will  do  a  public  service  if  you  can  succeed  in  re- 
covering the  senorita  from  them  ;  and  in  that  case, 
whatever  you  may  have  done  to  Felipe,  the  rescue  of 
the  captive  would  count  for  much  in  your  favour.  In 
short,  Cacique,  if  you  will  render  good  service  in  re- 
covering her,  I  will  appeal  to  the  governor  to  pardon 
you.  There  is  my  offer. ' ' 

The  Indians  talked  it  over  rapidly  among  them- 
selves. All  joined  in  urging  Salvador  to  seize  the 
opportunity  given  him  of  escaping  from  the  conse- 
quences of  his  rash  act.  Nor  did  he  want  much  urging; 
he  had  fought  the  Navajos  before,  and  was  personally 


2io  Lone  Pine 

no  ways  loath  to  take  the  field  against  them  again,  and 
pride  made  him  ardently  desire  to  shine  before  his  peo- 
ple in  the  character  of  a  leader.  In  five  minutes  the 
matter  was  settled  among  them  and  his  companions 
selected. 

"Yes,  Don  Estevan,"  said  he,  "your  offer  is  ac- 
cepted. I  will  go  with  you  on  the  trail  of  these  Nava- 
jos,  and  I  will  take  with  me  Miguel,  who  is  our  best 
tracker,  and  Alejandro,  who  is  very  good  also.  And 
it  is  agreed  that  you  stand  my  friend  in  the  matter  of 
Felipe." 

' '  Agreed, ' '  cried  Stephens  ;  ' '  and  now  let  us  be  off. 
You  have  weapons  and  ammunition." 

"  My  horse  is  tired,"  said  the  cacique  ;  "  and  how 
about  horses  for  the  young  men  ?  ' ' 

"  My  mule  can  carry  one,"  said  Stephens.  "  Could 
we  have  your  horse,  senor,"  he  asked,  turning  to  the 
Mexican,  "  and  let  you  ride  Mr.  Backus' s  horse  back 
to  San  Remo? — for  I  presume  he  is  n't  fit  for  another 
journey,  either." 

"  Alas,"  said  the  Mexican  politely,  "  I  fear  I  cannot 
accommodate  you  in  this.  I  have  to  ride  now  post- 
haste to  Rio  Grande  and  warn  Don  Nepomuceno's 
friends  there  of  the  trouble  that  has  befallen  him. 
They  will  doubtless  send  a  party  from  there  also  on 
the  trail.  Were  it  not  for  that  I  would  ride  with  you 
myself  with  pleasure. ' ' 

"  Look,  now,"  interrupted  the  cacique,  "  at  the  plan 
which  I  propose.  Let  us  go  to  the  horse  herd  beyond 
the  Cerro  de  las  Viboras.  My  horse  is  tired  indeed, 
but  he  can  take  me  there  ;  your  mule  is  strong,  Soo- 
shiuamo," — he  took  the  first  opportunity  to  call  Ste- 
phens by  his  Indian  name  as  a  sign  of  renewed  amity,— 
"  let  him  carry  our  two  young  men  also  as  far  as  the 


The  Fee  is  Accepted  211 

herd  ;  when  we  get  to  the  herd  we  will  choose  fresh 
horses  for  each  of  us,  and  we  will  take  one  of  the 
herders  along  with  us,  young  Ignacio,  who  is  very 
clever  at  trailing,  and  knows  the  country;  and  besides, 
it  is  possible  that  the  herders  may  have  seen  something 
of  Mahletonkwa's  baud,  and  can  give  information.  In 
any  case  we  will  start  afresh  from  the  horse  herd  and 
cut  the  trail  of  Mahletonkwa,  and  perhaps  of  Don 
Nepomuceno's  party  a  good  way  off  from  here."  Ste- 
phens looked  up  doubtfully  at  this  suggestion.  "  Oh, 
never  fear,"  continued  the  cacique  boastingly,  "we 
can  leave  a  trail  and  find  it  again  ;  I  will  show  you 
what  our  men  are  like  as  trailers.  There  is  no  one 
equal  to  the  Santiago  men  on  a  trail." 

The  cacique  was  known  for  a  man  of  skill  and  re- 
source in  all  these  things  of  practical  importance.  He 
had  indeed  aroused  the  indignation  of  the  prospector 
by  his  cruelty  to  Felipe  and  to  his  daughter,  but  in 
that  after  all  he  did  but  act  according  to  his  nature  ; 
Indians  were  cruel  anyhow.  The  savage,  even  in  the 
best  of  them,  was  close  to  the  surface.  When  it  came 
to  going  on  the  war-path  the  value  of  the  peculiar 
powers  of  the  savage  was  manifest,  and  Stephens  felt 
satisfied  with  his  own  action  in  turning  them  to  a  good 
purpose.  The  cacique's  proposal  was  unquestionably 
sound,  and  he  accepted  it  without  hesitation. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said,  "  before  you  go,"  turning  to 
the  Mexican  who  had  brought  the  news,  and  was  stand- 
ing there,  quirt  in  hand,  ready  to  start  as  soon  as  their 
plans  were  decided  upon,  ' '  what  more  is  there  known 
about  this  matter  ?  ' ' 

"Pues,  nada,  senor,"  answered  the  young  man — 
"  nothing — absolutely  nothing.  We  know  neither  at 
what  hour  of  the  night  they  took  her  away,  nor  with 


212  Lone  Pine 

what  object  they  have  done  it,  but  it  is  doubtless  to  ex- 
tort the  money  from  her  father,  the  money  that  they 
have  been  demanding  for  the  Navajo  killed  by  Don 
Andre's." 

"Does  the  postmaster  know  anything  about  it?" 
asked  Stephens  ;  "  I  thought  he  acted  very  ill  yester- 
day with  regard  to  the  Indians.  If  he  's  had  any  hand 

in  it,  by  George  ! "  he  broke  off  with  a  sudden  fury 

of  suspicion. 

"  Nothing  is  known  either  about  him,  senor,"  re- 
plied the  Mexican  ;  ' '  Mr.  Backus  declares  that  he  had 
no  idea  of  their  doing  such  a  thing.  They  were  at  his 
store  during  the  afternoon,  but  they  went  off  again  to 
a  distance  to  camp  before  sunset.  Doubtless  they 
would  conceal  their  scheme  from  him  as  from  every- 
body else.  And  now,  senor,  with  your  permission  I 
am  for  the  road.  I  have  near  twenty  leagues  to  ride 
to-day.  I  report,  then,  to  all  my  friends  that  you,  with 
the  Indian  trailers  of  Santiago,  are  going  to  take  the 
trail.  Believe  me,  we  relied  on  you  confidently  to 
assist."  He  grasped  Stephens  hand  warmly,  sprang 
to  his  saddle,  and  was  presently  galloping  for  the  Rio 
Grande. 

The  Indians  ran  to  their  houses  for  their  guns  and 
for  the  provision  of  dried  meat  and  parched  maize  they 
would  require  for  the  journey,  while  Stephens  brought 
his  mare  to  the  door  and  saddled  her,  tying  a  blanket 
for  himself  on  behind,  and  filling  his  saddle-bags  with 
as  much  victuals  as  he  could  stuff  into  them.  Before 
starting  he  ran  into  Reyna's  house  to  take  one  look  at 
Josefa.  She  was  lying  on  a  rug  spread  on  the  ground. 
In  a  few  words  he  told  her  of  his  summons  to  pursue 
Mahletonkwa,  and  his  acceptance  of  the  cacique's 
services  for  the  purpose.  "  But  don't  you  be  afraid," 


The  Fee  is  Accepted  213 

he  continued;  "  you  're  all  right  now.  He  shall  never 
lay  his  hand  on  you  again.  Reyna  will  look  after  you, 
and  nurse  you,  and  feed  you.  You  just  stick  by  her 
as  if  she  was  your  mother.  And  if  anyone  tries  to 
bother  you  while  I  'm  gone,  you  just  tell  them  to  go  to 
blazes.  You  tell  them  that  you  belong  to  me  now,  and 
that  if  they  go  to  try  any  nonsense  on  with  you  I  '11 
know  the  reason  why.  They  '11  have  me  to  reckon 
with.  See  ?  That  's  my  talk,  and  don't  you  forget 
it. ' '  He  gave  her  limp  hand  a  reassuring  pressure  as 
she  lay  there,  and  turned  away.  Three  minutes  later 
he  was  riding  north-westward  from  the  pueblo  in  the 
company  of  Salvador,  Miguel,  and  Alejandro. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

MADAM   WHAILAHAY 

NO  sooner  had  they  reached  the  outskirts  of  the 
village  than  they  saw  a  man  on  foot,  whose 
dress  proclaimed  him  to  be  a  white  man,  approaching 
from  the  San  Remo  direction,  not  by  the  road,  but  by  a 
path  that  led  through  the  plough-lands.  They  turned 
aside  to  meet  him,  and  as  he  drew  nearer  it  proved  to 
be  no  other  that  Mr.  Backus  himself. 

"  You  'd  better  go  ahead,"  said  Stephens  to  his  three 
Indian  companions  as  he  reined  up  his  mare  in  order 
to  speak  to  him.  "  I  '11  catch  you  up  in  a  few  minutes, 
but  I  just  want  to  hear  if  he  knows  anything  "  ;  and 
they  rode  forward  accordingly. 

'  This  is  a  devil  of  a  business, ' '  he  began  abruptly, 
addressing  the  storekeeper,  "  and  I  should  like  to  hear 
what  you  've  got  to  say  about  it."  His  lips  closed 
tightly,  and  there  was  a  dangerous  light  shining  in  his 
eyes. 

"  Ah,  about  the  carrying  off  of  the  Sanchez  girl," 
said  Backus,  with  a  nervous  affectation  of  taking  it  all 
rather  lightly  ;  "  well,  yes,  it  is  a  devil  of  a  business, 
as  you  say  ;  it  's  the  impidentest  thing  as  ever  I  heard 
of.  Who  ever  saw  the  like  of  it  ?  " 

"  It  's  a  serious  matter,  I  'd  have  you  to  know,"  re- 
turned the  prospector  with  rapidly  rising  anger  ;  "  it 's 

214 


Madam  Whailahay  215 

a  dreadful  thing  for  a  woman  to  be  carried  off  by  these 
infernal  scoundrels,  and  for  you  of  all  men  to  speak 
lightly  of  it  is  nothing  less  than  an  outrage.  You 
mark  my  words. ' '  He  was  exceedingly  indignant  with 
this  man  for  his  previous  conduct,  and  that  he  should 
assume  a  flippant  tone  now  was  unbearable. 

"  Wai',  I  'm  sorry,  real  sorry  about  it,  of  course," 
said  Backus  ;  "  and  it  's  spoilt  our  little  game  we  "had 
on  for  getting  that  information  out  of  them  Navajos, 
for  the  present  anyway." 

"I  '11  trouble  you  not  to  talk  about  'our'  little 
game,"  retorted  the  other  hotly.  "  I  cautioned  you 
against  mixing  yourself  up  with  those  scoundrelly 
Navajos,  and  don't  you  go  to  imply  that  I  'm  involved 
with  you  in  any  way  ;  I  could  never  look  Don  Nepo- 
muceno  in  the  face  again  if  I  shared  your  responsibility 
for  encouraging  the  villains. ' ' 

"  Seems  to  me,"  sneered  Backus,  "  that  for  a  man 
as  puts  on  so  much  style,  and  takes  up  such  tonified 
notions  as  you,  talking  about  '  never  going  outside 
your  own  colour  '  and  the  like,  you  make  pretty  con- 
siderable of  a  fuss  about  a  Mexican  ranchero  and  the 
trouble  he  's  got  himself  into." 

"  I  call  him  a  whiter  man  than  you,  for  one  thing," 
exclaimed  Stephens  ;  "  and  for  another,  mark  me,  I 
hold  you  personally  responsible  for  this  outrage.  It  's 
a  more  serious  matter  for  you  than  you  seem  to  be 
aware  of.  You  've  made  yourself  liable  by  the  way 
you  behaved  yesterday  with  those  redskins,  giving 
them  that  whiskey  and  letting  them  shoot  all  about 
your  place. ' ' 

:'  Why,  you  was  shooting  with  'em  yourself  for  one 
thing,"  retorted  the  Texan  with  intentional  insolence 
in  his  tone  ;  "  and,  for  another,  you  mark  me,  I  did  n't 


216  Lone   Pine 

give  'em  no  whiskey."  He  was  deliberately  mocking 
Stephens  ;  but  the  latter  was  in  no  mood  to  put  up 
with  it,  and  flinging  his  right  leg  over  the  mare's  neck 
he  jumped  to  the  ground  facing  the  quarter-blood 
Cherokee.  He  threw  the  mare's  rein  to  Faro  to  hold  ; 
it  was  a  trick  he  had  taught  him,  and  the  dog  stood 
there  obediently  with  it  in  his  jaws. 

"  I  say  you  sold  them  the  whiskey,  then,  if  you  did  n't 
give  it,"  he  exclaimed,  full  of  scorn  for  the  mean  eva- 
sion of  the  storekeeper.  f<  They  were  excited  with 
liquor  when  I  came  down  there  yesterday.  I  smelt  it 
on  them  right  there  at  your  house.  Don't  you  dare 
open  your  lips  to  deny  it." 

"  It  's  no  such  a  d — d  thing  !  "  cried  the  storekeeper 
with  an  ugly  look,  confident  that  no  one  had  seen 
him  hand  over  the  two  bottles  to  Mahletonkwa  ;  the 
next  instant  he  felt  Stephens' s  clenched  fist  strike 
him  full  on  his  lying  mouth,  and  he  went  staggering 
backward. 

Recovering  himself,  with  a  look  of  fury  he  threw 
back  his  right  hand  to  his  hip  for  a  pistol  ;  it  was  in 
vain  ;  he  had  come  without  one  ;  he  cast  a  meaning 
look  at  the  revolver  belted  round  the  prospector's  waist. 
'You  're  a  d  —  d  brave  man,  are  n't  you?"  he 
sneered,  "  when  you  know  you  're  heeled  and  I  aint." 

For  answer  Stephens  instantly  unbuckled  his  belt 
and  hung  the  pistol  over  the  horn  of  his  saddle. 
"  There,  then,"  he  said,  and  he  advanced  with  his 
hands  up  towards  the  Texan,  "  if  you  want  a  fist  fight 
you  can  get  it  right  here." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other,  "  and  then  have  your  infernal 
dog  lay  hold  of  me,"  and  he  backed  away  from  Ste- 
phens. In  height  and  weight  Backus  knew  himself  to 
be  a  match  for  the  prospector,  but  there  was  a  grim 


Madam  Whailahay  217 

determination  about  the  latter  which  cowed  him. 
"I  '11  pay  you  out  for  this,"  he  said  with  oaths,  still 
retreating  before  Stephens,  "  but  I  '11  choose  my  own 
time  for  it." 

Right  behind  him  ran  the  acequia,  brimming  full,  as 
it  had  been  ever  since  the  blasting,  but  Backus,  step- 
ping backwards  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  his  enemy,  for- 
got that  it  was  there  ;  he  put  one  foot  over  the  edge  of 
the  bank,  lost  his  balance,  and  fell  with  his  whole 
length  in  the  water.  He  emerged,  streaming,  on  the 
opposite  bank,  and  rescued  his  hat  which  had  fallen 
off  and  was  floating  away.  Then  rising,  he  shook  his 
fist  and  poured  out  more  curses  upon  Stephens,  who, 
thinking  him  sufficiently  punished,  did  not  choose  to 
follow  him  farther.  He  waited  a  minute  in  silence  till 
he  saw  Backus  walk  off  towards  the  pueblo,  then  turn- 
ing his  back  on  his  late  adversary  he  remounted  and 
quickly  loped  on  to  overtake  his  companions. 

The  prospector's  brain  was  in  a  whirl  as  he  rode 
through  the  fresh  morning  air  and  thought  over  the 
exciting  events  that  had  crowded  one  upon  another  since 
sunrise  :  the  beating  of  Josefa,  the  arrest  of  the  cacique, 
the  news  of  the  abduction  of  Manuelita,  and  lastly  his 
collision  with  Backus.  The  first  was  already  past  his- 
tory, and  he  had  satisfied  himself  that  though  the 
Indian  girl  must  have  suffered  a  good  deal  she  would 
undoubtedly  recover  and  be  all  right  again  ;  what  be- 
gan to  bother  him  a  little  now  was  the  somewhat 
equivocal  position  in  which  he  had  placed  himself  with 
regard  to  her  by  taking  her  under  his  protection  and 
establishing  her  next  door  to  him  in  the  pueblo  under 
the  care  of  Reyna. 

"  Well,"  he  thought,  "  folks  may  say  what  they 
like  about  it.  I  did  n't  see  any  other  way  on  the  spur 


218  Lone  Pine 

of  the  moment  to  make  her  safe  ;  and  now,  looking 
back,  I  don't  see  that  I  could  have  done  anything 
different.  If  folks  want  to  talk  they  must  just  talk, 
and  that  's  all  there  is  in  it.  I  guess  I  can  stand  the 
racket.  If  Tito  brings  Felipe  back  alive  they  shall  get 
married  right  away,  but  if  the  cacique's  bullet  has  laid 
the  poor  chap  out,  then  I  shall  see  what  I  can  do  to  fix 
her  up  good  somehow  when  I  get  back." 

It  was  perhaps  characteristic  of  him  that  now,  when 
he  was  embarked  on  an  expedition  full  of  unknown 
perils,  he  said  to  himself  easily  "  when  I  get  back," 
without  considering  for  a  moment  that  ere  that  time 
came  his  bones  might  be  bleaching  white  in  some  re- 
mote gulch,  like  those  of  the  lone  prospector  whose 
tragic  end  had  afforded  so  much  amusement  to  Mahle- 
tonkwa  and  his  band. 

As  for  the  arrest  of  the  cacique,  that,  too,  was  past 
history,  seeing  that  it  was  made  for  an  offence  that  he 
had  now  settled  to  condone.  He  did  not  repent  of  his 
own  action  in  the  matter,  either  of  the  arrest  or  the 
condonation,  but  he  could  not  help  feeling  a  certain 
surprise  as  he  thought  of  the  ease  with  which  the  arrest 
had  been  effected.  The  angry  chieftain  had  certainly 
proved  astonishingly  meek.  As  a  fact,  Stephens  mixed 
so  little  with  men  that  he  was  unconscious  himself  of 
the  power  there  was  in  him  to  dominate  others  when 
possessed  by  strong  indignation,  and  roused  to  defend 
the  weak  from  wrong,  as  he  had  been  that  morning. 
Ordinarily  quiet  and  self-contained  in  manner,  speaking 
in  a  gentle  voice,  and  showing  an  expression  of  mild- 
ness in  the  blue  eyes  that  had  gained  him  the  name  of 
Sooshiuamo,  he  was  capable  at  times  of  being  trans- 
formed by  an  energy  that  seemed  something  outside  his 
common  self,  and  by  the  contrast  made  him  appear  to 


Madam  Whailahay  219 

be  the  very  embodiment  of  superior  and  irresistible 
force. 

It  was  perhaps  as  well  for  Backus  that  Stephens  did 
not  know  that  the  storekeeper's  greed  of  gain  was  at 
the  bottom  of  the  trouble  ;  since  he  had  deliberately 
whetted  the  Navajos'  craving  for  whiskey  and  then 
doubled  the  price  of  it  to  them.  It  was  their  desire  to 
compel  Sanchez  to  pay  them  off  instanter,  and  enable 
them  to  procure  more  liquor  at  any  price,  that  had 
moved  them  to  the  extreme  step  of  seizing  his  daughter. 

But  Stephens  could  not  know  this.  All  he  knew 
was  that  she  was  gone,  and  that  his  one  burning  desire 
now  was  to  rescue  her  from  this  most  miserable  fate 
that  had  overtaken  her.  Of  what  that  fate  was  likely 
to  be,  there  was  in  his  own  mind  at  this  moment  no 
manner  of  doubt  whatever.  Sioux  and  Shoshones, 
Cheyennes  and  Arapahoes,  Kiowas  and  Comanches, 
the  wild  Indians,  one  and  all,  dealt  out  the  same  hor- 
rible fate  to  those  who  were  unhappy  enough  to  fall 
alive  into  their  hands.  The  men  were  tied  to  the 
stake,  or  spread-eagled  on  the  ground,  and  roasted  by 
a  slow  fire,  the  fiends,  who  danced  round  with  hideous 
yells,  cutting  slices  from  the  living  flesh  of  their  victim 
and  eating  them  before  his  eyes.  No  refinement  of 
torture  was  spared  until  death  mercifully  released  him 
from  his  agonies.  The  fate  of  a  woman  was  worse. 
If  she  escaped  being  scalped  and  mangled  on  the  spot, 
because  her  captors  preferred  to  carry  her  away  with 
them,  she  became  the  common  property  of  the  band, 
and  the  helpless  victim  of  brutal  outrage.  Stephens 
had  seen  one  sad-eyed,  heart-broken  captive  who  had 
been  rescued  from  the  clutches  of  the  Sioux,  and  the 
memory  of  her  woful  tale  seemed  to  ring  in  his  ears 
now  as  he  rode.  And  he  had  been  in  Denver  when  the 


220  Lone  Pine 

dead  body  of  a  white  woman,  on  which  the  Cheyenne 
Dog-Soldiers  had  worked  their  will,  was  brought  in 
from  the  burnt  ranch  where  they  found  her.  The 
mangled  body  was  placed  in  a  room  before  burial,  and 
the  men  of  the  city  were  taken  in,  a  few  at  a  time,  to 
view  the  ghastly  mutilation,  and  learn  what  an  Indian 
war  meant  for  their  wives  and  daughters.  Denver  was 
young  then,  and  three-fourths  of  its  people  were  men 
of  fighting  age.  Stephens  could  never  forget  the  faces 
of  those  men  as  they  returned  from  that  room  where 
the  poor  remains  lay.  Some  came  out  sick  and  faint ; 
some  with  faces  deadly  pale  and  burning  eyes  and 
tight-shut  lips  ;  and  some  blaspheming  aloud  and  hurl- 
ing curses  on  the  monsters  whose  pleasure  and  delight 
it  was  to  work  such  abhorred  wrong  on  poor  human 
flesh. 

How  vividly  it  all  came  back  to  him  as  he  pressed 
rapidly  forward  after  his  companions  ;  his  heart  grew 
hot  within  him  while  he  pictured  to  himself  the  girl 
whose  charming  face  he  knew  so  well,  and  whom  he 
had  come  to  regard  with  such  a  friendly  liking,  now  in 
the  grasp  of  ruthless  hands.  Well,  he  would  rescue, 
if  indeed  any  rescue  were  possible,  or  perish  in  the 
attempt. 

"  More  he  could  not ;  less  he  would  not ; 
Forwards,  till  the  work  be  done." 

The  hoof-strokes  of  the  mare  seemed  to  beat  time  to 
the  verse. 

He  overtook  the  cacique  and  the  two  younger  men 
just  where  the  trail  they  were  following  left  the  valley 
and  entered  the  mountains.  It  was  rougher  going  here, 
and  Alejandro  jumped  off  and  ran  behind  to  ease  the 
mule  as  they  pushed  in  single  file  up  the  rocky  path. 


Madam  Whailahay  221 

After  journeying  thus  for  some  time  they  came  to  a 
beautiful  little  grassy  park  of  a  few  acres,  ringed  around 
with  dark  pines,  and  with  a  small  stream  running 
through  it.  The  Indians  dismounted;  the  prospector 
sat  in  his  saddle  and  looked  at  them.  Were  they  in 
earnest  in  this  expedition,  or  were  they  only  trifling 
with  him  ?  They  had  hardly  been  going  three  hours, 
and  here  they  were  calling  a  halt  already. 

"  Dismount  for  a  short  instant,  Sooshiuamo,"  said 
the  cacique.  "  We  will  give  the  beasts  water  here, 
and  let  them  eat  a  few  mouthfuls  of  grass.  It  is  better 
so." 

Stephens  was  not  aware  that  it  was  the  custom  of  the 
Indians  to  halt  every  couple  of  hours  or  so  on  a  jour- 
ney;  they  believe  that  the  few  minutes'  rest  given  thus 
to  their  horses  enables  them  to  last  out  better,  while 
American  frontiersmen  commonly  make  longer  stages 
and  longer  halts.  But  as  he  had  deliberately  put  him- 
self under  the  guidance  of  these  men,  he  thought  it 
better  to  adopt  their  methods.  He  slacked  his  cinch, 
and,  pulling  off  the  bridle,  allowed  the  mare  to  graze. 

The  Indians  rolled  cigarettes  and  smoked. 

"  Beautiful  place,  Sooshiuamo,"  said  the  cacique, 
who  was  standing  up  and  looking  around  admiringly 
on  the  little  valley.  "  How  good  the  mountain  grass 
is.  I  love  this  valley. ' ' 

"  Yes,  it'  s  just  what  you  say,  Cacique,"  answered 
Stephens  ;  he  knew  the  Indians  loved  this  country 
which  they  now,  as  always,  regarded  as  their  own.  He 
often  wondered  how  much  they  felt  the  beauty  of  it  in 
their  souls,  or  whether  with  them  it  was  a  sort  of  phy- 
sical instinct,  like  the  yearning  horses  and  cattle  feel 
for  their  native  pastures. 

"  I  love  this  valley,"  repeated  the  cacique  ;  "just 


222  Lone  Pine 

down  there  is  where,  with  one  companion,  I  killed 
seven  Navajos."  He  pointed  with  the  hand  that  held 
the  cigarette  to  the  lower  end  of  the  park. 

'  You  killed  seven  Navajos  !  "  said  Stephens,  look- 
ing at  him  with  surprise.  "  When  was  that?  How 
did  you  manage  it  ?  " 

"  It  was  in  the  time  of  the  war,"  answered  the  other 
proudly.  "  The  Navajos  used  to  hide  here  in  the 
mountains  all  the  time,  and  fall  upon  our  people  when 
we  were  at  work  in  our  lands.  We  could  not  stir  out- 
side the  pueblo  then  without  arms  for  fear  of  being 
waylaid  by  the  rascals.  And  our  scouts  used  to  come 
up  here  in  the  mountains,  too,  and  watch  along  the 
trails  to  see  if  any  of  the  Navajos  were  prowling  about, 
and  give  the  alarm.  Once  I  came  up  here  on  scout 
with  another  man  of  Santiago  ;  and  we  hid  and  lay  all 
night  in  that  hill,"  he  pointed  to  a  rocky  summit 
shaggy  with  pines  that  rose  hard  by.  "  And  we  struck 
the  tracks  of  seven  Navajos  who  were  prowling  about 
here  to  wait  for  their  chance  to  make  a  descent  upon 
our  people  in  their  fields.  And  for  days  we  lay  up 
there  and  watched  them,  and  they  never  knew  it,  for 
we  kept  very  still.  And  the  third  day  we  saw  them 
making  a  sweat- house,  and  we  knew  they  were  going 
to  have  a  bath.  They  built  their  house  down  there  in 
the  brush  by  the  creek,  and  they  covered  it  with  wil- 
low twigs  and  sods  to  keep  in  the  steam,  and  they 
made  a  fire  and  heated  the  stones  red-hot,  and  carried 
them  into  the  house  and  poured  on  water.  And  six  of 
them  left  their  arms  outside  with  their  clothes,  and 
went  into  the  bath,  and  the  seventh  covered  the  door 
with  a  blanket  to  keep  in  the  hot  steam.  And  my 
comrade  and  I  crawled  up  on  them  through  the  brush 
very  quickly,  and  making  no  noise,  while  the  seventh 


Madam  Whailahay  223 

Indian  held  the  blanket  over  the  door.  And  there  I 
shot  him  with  my  gun," — he  threw  up  his  rifle  to  his 
shoulder,  and  took  aim  at  an  imaginary  Navajo  as  he 
spoke,  his  face  glowing  with  pride  and  excitement  over 
the  recollection, — "  and  there  he  fell  down  dead.  And 
we  leaped  forward,  for  we  had  stolen  up  very  close  be- 
hind his  back,  and  the  six  Navajos  inside  came  scram- 
bling out  of  the  sweat-house  one  after  another,  and  we 
cracked  their  skulls,  so,  with  our  tomahawks,  crack, 
crack,  crack," — he  made  an  expressive  pantomime  of 
dealing  heavy  blows  on  a  stooping  foe, — ' '  and  we  killed 
them  all,  every  one.  There  was  no  chance  for  them  ; 
they  could  not  escape.  And  we  took  their  scalps  and 
the  plunder,  and  brought  them  home.  It  was  a  great 
triumph.  Yes,  I  do  love  this  valley." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,"  said  the  American  ;  "  you  must 
have  been  very  much  pleased  with  yourselves.  You 
scored  there." 

"  Oh,  we  always  scored  against  the  Navajos,"  re- 
turned the  other,  "  whenever  we  had  fair  play.  The 
only  way  they  ever  could  best  us  was  by  sneaking  round 
like  wolves  and  catching  some  of  our  men  at  work  and 
off  their  guard  ;  but  fighting  man  to  man  we  were  far 
the  better  warriors.  We  always  beat  them  then,  as  I  did 
right  here.  Yes,  I  love  this  place.  But  come,  Soo- 
shiuamo,  it  is  time  for  us  to  be  moving  again." 

Forwards,  forwards  ever,  through  the  shadow  of  the 
pine  woods,  over  the  silent  carpet  of  brown  fir-needles, 
where  the  sudden  squirrel  chattered  and  barked  his 
alarm  ere  he  rushed  to  the  safety  of  his  tree-top,  over 
open  grassy  meadows  and  along  willow-fringed  streams 
where  the  mountain  trout  leaped  and  darted  in  the 
eddies.  It  was  indeed  a  lovely  land,  rich  in  timber, 
rich  in  pasture,  rich,  too,  as  Stephens  knew,  in  gold 


224  Lone  Pine 

and  silver,  perhaps  even  in  diamonds — who  could  tell  ? 
What  tragedies,  though,  of  torturer  and  tortured  it  had 
seen  in  the  past, — ay,  and  was  likely  to  see  again  ;  nay, 
what  hideous  things  might  not  that  unhappy  girl  be 
enduring  now  somewhere  in  its  wild  recesses  !  That 
thought  never  left  Stephens  for  a  single  moment.  The 
high,  park-like  country  up  here  was  much  more  open 
now  that  the  trail  had  left  the  rugged  defiles  that  led 
up  into  it.  He  urged  his  mare  forward  alongside  the 
cacique's  horse. 

"  When  we  catch  up  with  the  Navajos,  Cacique," 
said  Stephens,  ' '  what  is  your  plan  ?  ' ' 

' '  Ah, ' '  answered  the  cacique,  ' '  we  must  try  the  best 
way  we  can.  If  we  can  catch  them  off  their  guard  we 
will  fight  them  perhaps,  and  give  it  them  hot.  But  if 
they  are  in  a  strong  place  like  the  Lava  Beds  ahead  of 
us  where  we  cannot  get  at  them,  we  must  try  and  make 
terms  with  them.  But  it  will  not  be  easy  to  catch  them 
at  a  disadvantage  and  fight  them;  so  very  likely  Don 
Nepomuceno  will  be  glad  to  make  terms.  If  he  pays 
them  well  and  gets  his  daughter  back,  it  will  be  the 
best  thing  we  can  do." 

There  was  a  certain  businesslike  air  of  familiarity 
with  the  whole  matter  apparent  in  the  cacique  that 
struck  Stephens.  Evidently  the  carrying  off  of  Manuel- 
ita  belonged  to  a  class  of  incidents  that  were  by  no 
means  unusual  according  to  his  experience.  As  the 
prospector  rode  along  pondering  this  fact,  he  reflected 
that  Salvador  was  a  man  now  about  forty  years  of  age, 
and  that  for  thirty-five  out  of  those  forty  years  his  peo- 
ple and  the  Navajos  had  been  deadly  enemies.  It  was 
only  the  recent  conquest  of  the  latter  by  the  Americans 
that  had  put  them  on  the  novel  footing  of  peace. 
Mutual  slaughter  and  the  carrying  off  of  women  had 


Madam  Whailahay  225 

been  the  normal  condition  of  things  during  the  greater 
part  of  his  life. 

"  I  gather  from  what  you  say  about  ransom,"  said 
the  American  after  a  short  silence,  "  that  you  think  the 
Navajoes  would  be  willing  to  restore  the  sefiorita  if 
they  were  paid.  But  do  you  think  Don  Nepomuceno 
and  Don  Andres  will  be  content  to  recover  her  like 
that  ?  Will  not  the  Navajos  be  certain  to  have  treated 
her  shamefully,  and  will  her  father  and  her  brother  be 
content  to  get  her  back  without  taking  vengeance  ? 
Will  they  be  content  before  they  have  shed  blood  for 
her  wrongs  ?  ' ' 

It  jarred  upon  all  his  instincts  of  race  feeling  to  even 
approach  the  subject  of  Manuelita's  wrongs  to  this  In- 
dian. The  Navajoes  and  Pueblos  might  be  mutually 
hostile,  and  the  Pueblo  cacique  for  the  present  was  his 
friend,  but  he  was  an  Indian  after  all,  a  member  of  the 
race  to  which  belonged  those  Sioux  and  Cheyennes 
whose  dreadful  deeds  were  burned  in  upon  the  Ameri- 
can's brain.  Ill-treatment  of  women  captives  makes 
an  unbridgeable  division  between  race  and  race.  It 
constitutes 

" the  inexpiable  wrong,  the  unutterable  shame, 

That  turns  the  coward's  heart  to  steel,  the  sluggard's  blood  to 
flame." 

Nevertheless,  so  great  was  his  anxiety  on  the  subject 
that  he  had  broken  through  the  reserve  natural  to  him 
in  this  matter. 

Before  answering,  the  cacique  threw  a  look  of  pity  at 
him.  It  was  neither  pity  for  her  lot,  nor  for  his  state  of 
anxious  suspense  concerning  it.  It  was  the  contemptu- 
ous pity  of  superior  knowledge  for  the  uninstructed  per- 
son who  did  not  understand  Navajos  and  their  ways. 
15 


226  Lone  Pine 

"She  's  all  right,"  said  he;  "the  Navajos  won't 
do  her  any  harm  unless  they  are  driven  to  kill  her." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  's  true?  "  cried 
Stephens  eagerly.  "  I  can't  understand  how  it  can 
be.  I  know  some  things  about  the  plains  Indians,  and 
I  know  no  woman  is  spared  by  them  for  one  hour  after 
she  becomes  a  captive.  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  the 
Navajos  are  different  from  all  other  Indians  ?  " 

The  cacique  laughed  with  conscious  superiority. 

"  Of  course  they  are  different,"  he  answered,  "  and 
they  always  have  been.  Did  n't  I  say  before  that  they 
are  very  foolish,  ignorant  people  ?  And  it  is  quite  true 
that  they  are  afraid  to  use  violence  to  captive  women, 
and  I  will  tell  you  why.  It  is  all  because  of  a  foolish 
religion  of  their  own  that  they  have.  You  know  they 
are  mere  heathens  ;  they  don't  know  anything  about 
heaven  and  purgatory  and  the  rest  of  it,  about  all  the 
things  the  padre  tells  when  he  comes  to  see  us.  They 
have  foolish  stories  which  they  believe,  and  which  the 
devil  has  taught  them." 

Stephens  could  not  help  interrupting  him.  "  But 
how  about  that  turkey- feather  business  of  your  own," 
he  asked,  ' '  and  your  sacred  snakes  ? ' ' 

The  cacique  looked  shocked.  "  Oh,  those  are  our 
own  Santiago  mysteries, ' '  he  said  seriously  ;  "  we  be- 
lieve what  the  padre  tells  us,  but  we  have  our  own 
Shiuana — the  spirits — to  deal  with  as  well,  and  we  have 
our  own  way  of  doing  it.  That  is  right  for  us.  But 
these  Navajos  have  most  foolish  ideas  about  the  next 
world.  You  know  they  think  when  they  die  they  will 
go  to  another  place  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  American,  "  the  happy  hunting- 
grounds.  ' ' 

"  That  's  not  the  name  they  give  it,"  said  the  ca- 


Madam  Whailahay  227 

cique,  "  but  all  the  same  it  's  a  place  they  want  to  go 
to  very  much,  where  they  can  keep  plenty  of  sheep  and 
horses  upon  grass  richer  than  the  grass  of  the  Chusca 
Mountains.  But  they  think,  silly  fools,  that  before 
they  can  get  to  this  good  place  they  have  to  cross  a 
dreadful  dark  river  that  it  is  very  hard  to  get  over. 
If  they  can't  get  over  they  think  that  they  must  wan- 
der about  for  ever  in  cold  and  dark  and  misery.  And 
they  think  that  there  is  in  the  next  world  a  wonderful 
old  woman,  whom  they  call  Whailahay,  and  she  lives 
there  and  knows  all  the  fords  of  this  river,  and  without 
her  help  no  one  can  get  over  if.  So  they  all  want  to 
please  her  very  much.  But,  you  see,  Whailahay  is  a 
woman,  and  is  very  angry  if  women  are  ill-treated,  at 
least  so  they  think  ;  and  then,  if  they  have  n't  let  the 
women  on  earth  have  their  own  way  in  everything, 
and  do  just  what  they  please,  Whailahay  is  very  cross 
with  the  men,  and  she  won't  help  them  to  get  across 
the  dreadful  dark  river  to  the  good  place  when  they 
die,  but  leaves  them  to  starve  for  ever,  wandering  about 
shivering  and  wretched.  It  is  a  most  foolish  story, 
and  the  result  is  that  the  Navajos  spoil  their  women 
entirely.  They  dare  not  lay  a  hand  on  them  to  keep 
them  in  proper  order"  ;  he  looked  full  in  Stephens's 
eyes  as  he  said  this,  and  Stephens  looked  in  his  eyes, 
and  each  knew  the  other  was  thinking  of  the  beating 
of  Josefa. 

"  No,  they  dare  not  touch  them  in  any  way  against 
their  will,"  continued  the  cacique,  "  and  the  women 
are  masters  of  the  men,  and  all  in  consequence  of  a 
foolish  story  about  an  old  witch.  Don't  you  think  it  is 
a  foolish  story,  Sooshiuamo  ? ' ' 

Stephens's  heart  bounded  with  exultation,  and  he 
felt  as  if  a  heavy  load  were  lifted  from  his  breast. 


228  Lone  Pine 

"  Foolish  !  "  he  cried,  turning  in  his  saddle  with  a 
triumphant  laugh  of  joy,  "why,  Cacique,  don'tyou  see, 
if  that  's  so  she  '11  be  safe.  Foolish  !  I  think  it 's  the 
very  best  story  I  ever  heard  in  my  life.  Bully  for  old 
Madam  Whailahay ! " 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

HUNTING   A 


ON  they  went,  on  and  on,  till  beneath  the  rugged 
peak  of  the  Cerro  de  las  Vi'boras  they  saw  before 
them  a  glorious  open  valley  of  a  thousand  acres,  facing 
the  southern  sun,  and  green  with  young  grass. 

;  '  This  is  the  Valle  L,indito,  '  '  said  the  cacique,  '  '  and 
there  is  our  horse  herd."  A  band  of  two  or  three 
hundred  horses  and  mares  were  grazing  peacefully  in 
the  valley.  It  was  early  yet  for  foals,  but  a  few  here 
and  there  were  visible,  frisking  and  capering  round 
their  dams. 

An  Indian  stallion  nickered  proudly  at  the  sight  of 
the  strangers,  and  trotted  towards  them,  high  and  dis- 
posedly,  tossing  his  crest  and  holding  his  head  aloft  ; 
at  the  sight  of  him  Morgana  whinnied  back,  and  lo  ! 
from  a  patch  of  willow  brush  leaped  forth  an  Indian 
youth  who  was  on  watch  ;  bareback  he  came  full  speed 
on  a  flying  pony  and  whirled  a  lasso  round  and  round, 
and  chivied  the  guardian  of  the  herd  back  to  his  mates. 
Then  he  rode  up  to  the  four  and  greeted  them,  and  rapid 
question  and  answer  ensued.  The  youth  was  young 
Ignacio,  son  to  Josefa's  elderly  would-be  bridegroom. 
No,  they  had  seen  no  Navajos,  nor  any  tracks  of  any. 
Nothing  had  troubled  the  herd  except  that  the  mount- 
ain lions  had  killed  a  foal.  The  travelling  Mexican 

229 


230  Lone  Pine 

sheep  herds  were  wandering  hither  and  thither  through 
the  mountains,  as  usual,  seeking  their  appointed  sta- 
tions for  the  lambing  month  ere  it  began.  The  Jica- 
rilla  Apaches  had  been  through  not  long  before  and 
had  killed  some  cattle  of  the  Mexicans — the  Indian 
laughed  as  he  recounted  this — and  the  Mexicans  were 
very  angry,  but  could  not  catch  them.  He  hinted  that 
Mexican  beef  tasted  sweet,  and  laughed  still  more,  but 
the  cacique  frowned.  He  did  not  love  the  Mexicans — 
far  from  it — but  his  policy  was  to  keep  on  good  terms 
with  them.  He  repeated  his  questions  about  the 
Navajos. 

The  rest  of  the  Indian  herders  came  up,  and  now 
came  news.  Yes,  they  had  seen  tracks  of  a  travelling 
party  which  they  supposed  to  be  Indians.  Eleven 
ponies  there  were  altogether,  going  north-westward 
from  the  Mesa  del  Verendo.  No,  they  had  seen  no 
one  to  speak  of,  and  they  had  seen  no  tracks  of  any 
party  of  Mexicans  in  pursuit.  They  were  astonished 
when  they  heard  the  tale  of  the  abduction  of  Manuelita, 
but  they  had  heard  of  the  killing  of  the  Navajo  by  Don 
Andres  from  the  shepherds  of  a  flock  of  the  Preas,  which 
they  had  met  in  the  Valle  Cajon.  As  for  the  tracks 
they  had  seen  that  morning, they  might  be  those  of  Mah- 
letonkwa  and  his  band,  or  they  might  have  been  made 
by  some  other  Navajos  or  by  Jicarillas.  ' '  Quien  sabe  ? ' ' 
But  they  told  the  cacique  exactly  where  he  would  find 
them  next  day  and  then  he  could  j  udge  for  himself. 

Three  fresh  horses  were  now  selected  and  caught. 
The  cacique's  horse  and  Stephens' s  mule  were  now 
turned  loose  in  the  Indian  herd,  where  the  mule  brayed 
frantically  for  his  beloved  Morgana.  A  hasty  meal 
was  eaten,  and  with  young  Ignacio  added  to  their  party 
they  set  forward  once  more  into  the  wilderness. 


Hunting  a  Trail  231 

Ere  the  sun  was  an  hour  high  next  morning  the  ca- 
cique and  Miguel  and  young  Ignacio  were  critically 
examining  the  eleven  ponies'  tracks,  and  trying  to  make 
out  whether  they  were  those  of  Mahletonkwa's  band 
or  no. 

"  Almost  certainly,  yes,"  was  the  verdict,  and  they 
followed  at  once  hotly  on  the  trail.  The  fact  that  they 
were  exactly  eleven  in  number  made  the  probability  very 
great,  and  the  absence  of  any  other  later  tracks  made 
it  certain  that  if  they  had  really  hit  it  off  they  must 
have  cut  the  trail  in  front  of  the, Mexicans. 

The  cacique  crowed  triumphantly. 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you,  Sooshiuamo,  that  the  Navajos 
would  throw  the  Mexicans  off  the  scent  on  the  Mesa 
del  Verendo.  You  may  be  very  sure  that  is  what  has 
happened.  They  all  scattered  out  there  on  the  hard 
ground,  and  then  they  turned  their  course  from  west  to 
north,  and  then  met  again  by  agreement  miles  away, 
and  not  on  the  mesa  at  all,  but  down  below  here.  The 
Mexicans  will  have  wasted  half  the  day  yesterday  in 
trying  to  follow  their  tracks  on  the  Mesa  del  Verendo, 
and  I  expect  they  are  at  it  yet  ;  while  we,  you  see, 
who  started  hours  after  them,  have  cut  the  trail  far 
ahead.  Did  I  not  tell  you  we  were  great  trailers, 
Sooshiuamo  ?  ' ' 

Sooshiuamo  could  not  help  thinking  that  the  success 
of  which  the  cacique  was  so  proud  was  a  good  deal  due 
to  the  information  that  had  been  given  them,  but  he 
wisely  did  not  say  so.  And  at  any  rate  the  cacique 
was  entitled  to  the  credit  of  having  guessed  rightly  the 
route  Mahletonkwa  would  take,  and  having  steered  on 
his  own  authority  a  judicious  course  to  intercept  it. 
They  had  left  the  high  upland  pastures  now,  and  the 
sierra  lay  behind  them;  they  were  heading  into  a  rolling 


232  Lone   Pine 

country  of  dry  grama  grass  and  cedar-  and  pinon-trees, 
a  warmer  country  than  the  mountains,  but  not  so  well 
watered.  Away  to  the  south-west  was  visible  a  lofty 
conical  peak  standing  by  itself ;  it  was  an  extinct  vol- 
cano. Presently  the  trail  of  the  eleven  ponies  turned 
towards  the  conical  peak. 

"  I  knew  it,"  cried  the  cacique  triumphantly  again, 
' '  I  knew  how  it  would  be.  The  Lava  Beds  are  yonder, 
and  the  Navajos  are  going  for  them  ;  they  have  been 
making  a  big  circuit  to  throw  the  Mexicans  off  the 
track,  but  now  they  have  turned  for  the  Beds  again. 
They  meant  to  go  there  all  along.  Oh,  did  n't  I  know 
it  ?  Eh,  Sooshiuamo  ?  " 

Sooshiuamo  readily  admitted  the  accuracy  with 
which  the  Pueblo  had  grasped  the  intentions  of  the 
Navajos,  and  praised  his  skill.  Presently  they  came 
to  a  place  where  the  party  they  were  pursuing  had 
halted  for  a  rest  and  a  meal,  and  here  the  question 
as  to  who  they  were  was  decided  beyond  all  doubt. 
Among  the  many  moccasin-tracks  which  ran  all  about 
the  little  fire  they  had  made,  the  keen  eyes  of  the  In- 
dians detected  the  print  of  a  shoe  with  a  heel,  the  small, 
dainty  shoe  of  a  civilised  woman. 

"  Look,"  said  Miguel,  who  found  it  first,  pointing  it 
out  to  Stephens,  who,  keen-sighted  though  he  was, 
bareljr  distinguished  it  in  the  dry,  sandy  soil,  "  there  is 
the  foot  of  the  senorita.  Look  how  she  is  tired  and 
stiff  with  riding,  and  walks  with  little  steps.  And  here 
is  where  she  lay  down  on  a  blanket  to  rest.  Oh,  she 
will  be  very  tired." 

Literally,  these  Indians  seemed  able  to  tell  every 
single  thing  she  had  done  in  that  camp  during  the  half- 
hour  or  hour  that  had  probably  been  spent  there.  It 
was  a  camp  made  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  day  be- 


Hunting  a  Trail  233 

fore,  so  they  settled.  ' '  Just  when  we  were  at  the 
horse  herd  in  the  Valle  L,indito, "  said  the  cacique, 
who  seemed  to  read  the  signs  left  by  the  different 
members  of  the  band  and  by  their  horses  with  as  much 
ease  and  confidence  as  Stephens  would  have  shown  in 
gathering  the  meaning  of  a  page  of  a  printed  book  by 
glancing  his  eyes  over  the  hundreds  of  little  black 
crooked  marks  on  the  page,  known  to  civilised  beings 
as  letters.  But  in  the  art  of  reading  signs  the  cacique 
was  a  past  master,  where  Stephens,  to  follow  up  the 
simile,  had  but  just  mastered  the  alphabet  and  was 
struggling  with  words  of  one  syllable. 

Forward  once  more  on  the  trail,  with  the  increased 
ardour  given  by  the  certainty  that  now  there  could  be 
no  mistake.  As  they  drew  near  the  Lava  Beds,  and 
the  shades  of  evening  began  to  fall,  the  cacique  grew 
anxious. 

"  The  TinneV' — Tinne  was  the  Navajos'  own  name 
for  themselves,  and  the  cacique  now  began  to  use  it 
regularly  in  speaking  of  them,  feeling  himself,  as  it 
were,  on  their  ground, — "  the  Tinne,'.'  he  said,  "  are 
sure  to  keep  a  close  watch  on  the  edge  of  the  Beds 
where  their  trail  goes  in,  so  as  to  see  who  is  following 
them.  Let  us  turn  off  their  trail  here  and  go  aside  ; 
there  is  a  spring  at  the  edge  of  the  Beds  a  little  north 
of  here  ;  we  will  camp  there  for  the  night,  we  can  do 
nothing  in  the  Beds  in  the  dark  ;  also  if  the  Mexicans 
have  found  the  trail  again,  as  they  ought  to  have  done 
by  this  time,  they  may  follow  it  part  of  the  night  by 
moonlight  and  be  able  to  overtake  us  here.  It  would 
be  well  to  have  them  here  before  we  go  into  the  Beds. 
Don't  you  think  so,  Sooshiuanio  ?  " 

Stephens  had  to  agree.  It  grated  on  him  terribly  to 
leave  Manuelita  for  a  second  night  in  the  hands  of 


234  Lone  Pine 

Mahletonkwa  and  his  band,  but  it  was  more  than 
doubtful  whether  they  could  possibly  find  where  they 
had  her  concealed  in  the  gathering  darkness,  and  there 
was  a  good  chance  of  being  in  a  better  position  to  deal 
with  the  matter  in  the  morning. 

It  was  already  night  when  the  cacique  skilfully  and 
cautiously  led  them  to  the  little  spring  he  knew  of  near 
the  Beds  ;  they  watered  their  horses  here,  and  drank, 
too,  themselves,  and  camped  under  a  cedar  bush  not  far 
away,  without  a  fire  lest  the  light  should  betray  them. 
They  chewed  their  tough,  dried  meat,  and  ate  a  little 
parched  corn,  and  kept  watch  by  turns  in  the  moon- 
light over  their  horses  during  the  first  half  of  the 
night.  But  nothing  disturbed  them,  and  Faro  gave 
no  sign  of  suspecting  an  enemy  at  hand  when  Stephens 
scouted  round  with  him  before  moonset,  and  after  that 
they  slept  securely. 

He  was  awakened  after  dawn  by  the  cacique. 
Miguel  had  already  scouted  some  way  on  their  back 
trail  ;  there  was  no  sign  of  the  Mexicans  coming  up  ; 
and  the  cacique  now  made  a  somewhat  alarming  sug- 
gestion. Suppose  that  the  Mexicans  had  not  lost  the 
trail  on  the  Mesa  del  Verendo,  as  he  had  conjectured, 
but  had  caught  the  Tinne  there  and  been  unlucky 
enough  to  be  beaten  off  by  them  in  a  fight.  It  was  a 
contingency  that  had  not  occurred  to  Stephens  before, 
and  redoubled  his  anxiety. 

The  cacique,  as  usual,  had  a  plan.  He  declined, 
with  their  small  party,  to  follow  the  Navajos'  trail 
straight  into  the  Lava  Beds.  They  would  be  sure  to 
walk  into  a  trap,  and  if  there  had  been  a  fight,  and  the 
Tinne  blood  was  up,  they  would  be  shot  down  merci- 
lessly from  an  ambush.  He  felt  sure  the  Navajos  had 
established  themselves  on  a  little  oasis  there  was  in  the 


Hunting  a  Trail  235 

middle  of  the  Beds,  where  there  was  grass  for  their 
horses;  and  he  proposed  to  enter  the  Beds  more  to  the 
north,  where  he  knew  of  a  practicable  place  for  horses 
to  go  in,  and  so  work  round  to  the  oasis  on  the  farther 
side. 

This  seemed  so  reasonable  that  Stephens  saw  no- 
thing for  it  but  to  accede,  and  accordingly,  after  water- 
ing their  stock,  they  at  once  proceeded  to  put  it  in 
action. 

The  L,ava  Beds  were  an  awful  country  for  horses. 
From  the  old  volcano  an  immense  mass  of  lava  had 
flowed  over  all  this  part  of  the  country,  like  a  broad 
river,  twenty  or  thirty  feet  deep  and  miles  in  width. 
It  was  a  mass  of  perfectly  naked  rock,  and  was  in- 
credibly cracked  and  fissured.  The  change  to  it  from 
the  open  country  was  instant  and  abrupt.  You  could 
gallop  over  rolling  pasture-lands  right  to  the  edge  of 
the  Beds,  where  you  must  dismount  and  advance  on 
foot,  stepping  warily  from  rock  to  rock,  and  choosing 
carefully  a  route  that  it  was  possible  for  a  sure-footed 
horse  to  pick  his  way  over. 

After  a  tedious  and  toilsome  progress  of  this  sort, 
they  came  at  last  to  a  little  opening,  a  sort  of  island,  as 
it  were,  in  the  lava  flow,  only  that  it  was  lower,  most 
of  it,  than  the  actual  surface  of  the  flow.  Here  was  a 
patch  of  grass,  and  the  cacique  suggested  that  Stephens 
should  remain  here  with  the  horses  while  he  and  his 
young  men  scouted  on  foot  in  the  direction  of  the 
larger  opening,  or  oasis,  where  he  suspected  that  the 
Navajos  had  established  themselves. 

Stephens  was  very  unwilling  to  stay  behind,  but  he 
had  to  admit  that  the  scouts  would  probably  get  on 
better  without  him.  Accordingly  he  consented,  and 
stretched  himself  on  his  blanket  on  the  ground,  holding 


236  Lone  Pine 

the  end  of  the  mare's  lariat  in  his  hand,  while  the  In- 
dians, drawing  their  belts  tighter  and  grasping  their 
guns,  started  off  in  the  new  direction  indicated  by  the 
cacique. 

Long  he  lay  there  waiting  ;  an  eagle-hawk,  attracted 
by  the  sight  of  the  horses,  swung  lazily  through  the 
blue  sky  overhead,  and  seeing  nothing  there  to  interest 
him  sailed  off  majestically  to  a  richer  hunting-ground 
beyond  the  barren  lava  flow.  Many  thoughts  coursed 
through  the  mind  of  the  impatient  man.  He  was  dis- 
appointed that  the  Mexicans  had  not  come  up,  and  he 
was  impressed  by  the  intense  watchfulness  and  seri- 
ousness of  the  cacique.  The  Pueblo  chief  clearly  felt 
himself  now  in  enemies'  country,  and  knew  that  they 
were  face  to  face  with  the  chances  of  a  desperate  strug- 
gle. Any  mistake  now  might  land  them  instantly  in  a 
fight,  with  the  odds  more  than  two  to  one  against 
them;  to  say  nothing  of  the  additional  peril  this  would 
bring  upon  Manuelita.  Yet  something  must  be  done 
for  her,  and  that  without  delay.  Stephens  could  not 
endure  the  thought  of  leaving  her  another  day  and 
night  in  the  power  of  those  savages.  He  had  been 
partly  reassured  by  the  cacique's  account  of  the  super- 
stitious influence  of  Whailahay  in  protecting  women, 
but  still — the  possibilities  that  presented  themselves  to 
his  mind  were  too  awful.  No,  come  what  would, 
whether  the  Mexican  party  arrived  in  time  or  not, 
when  he  found  the  Navajos  something  should  be 
done.  And  then  his  eye  lit  on  the  figure  of  the  cacique 
bounding  from  block  to  block  of  the  Lava  Beds,  and 
coming  towards  him  with  manifest  excitement  in  his  air. 

The  Navajos  were  found. 

"  We  've  caught  up  with  them  at  last,"  said  the 
Pueblo  chief  in  au  excited  half- whisper.  "  All  the 


Hunting  a  Trail  237 

Tinne  are  camped  in  a  hollow  just  beyond  there,"  and 
he  pointed  eagerly  to  a  rise  in  the  lava  bed  that  bounded 
their  view  to  the  immediate  front. 

' '  And  the  girl  ?  ' '  queried  the  American  hoarsely. 
"  Is  she  there  too  ?  Have  any  of  you  seen  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  's  sure  to  be  there,"  said  the  cacique. 
"  She  can't  fail  to  be  there.  No,  we  did  n't  any  of  us 
positively  set  eyes  on  her,  but  Miguel,  who  got  into 
the  best  position  to  spy  on  them,  was  able  to  count 
their  horses  ;  the  whole  lot  of  them,  all  the  eleven,  are 
there  in  the  '  abra, ' — the  opening  or  oasis  in  the  Lava 
Beds, — so  of  course  she  must  be  there." 

"  True,"  answered  Stephens  somewhat  doubtfully. 
' '  That  is,  I  suppose,  you  argue  that  if  the  horses  are 
there  she  must  be  so,  too  ;  because  if  they  had  taken 
her  elsewhere  they  'd  have  had  to  take  a  horse  to  carry 
her.  But,"  he  added,  "  as  Miguel  even  did  n't  actually 
see  her,  might  she  not  perhaps  have  escaped  on  foot  ? ' ' 

The  Indian  gave  a  smothered  laugh  of  derision. 
"  She  escape  ?  "  he  said  ;  "  escape  from  the  Tinne  ! 
Never.  No  captive  ever  escapes.  Too  well  watched. ' ' 

Miguel  himself,  with  Alejandro  and  young  Ignacio, 
now  came  up  and  joined  them,  and  Stephens  closely 
examined  them  as  to  what  they  had  seen.  They 
confirmed  unanimously  the  conclusions  that  the  ca- 
cique had  arrived  at.  Manuelita  was  certainly  there. 
Whether  the  Navajos  were  aware  of  their  presence  or 
not,  was,  however,  uncertain.  All  they  could  say  was 
that  they  had  been  most  careful  not  to  give  the  Tinne 
a  chance  by  exposing  themselves  to  view,  and  that 
therefore  the  probability  was  that  they  were  still  in 
ignorance.  But  they  might  have  spotted  the  Pueblos 
in  spite  of  all  their  care,  and  be  simply  lying  low  in 
order  to  entrap  them. 


238  Lone  Pine 

"  What  's  the  best  move  now  ?  "  said  Stephens. 

"  It  will  be  better  if  we  return  back  some  way,"  said 
the  cacique.  '  The  Mexican  party  may  come  up  to- 
day, and  then  we  can  join  forces  with  them.  But  if  the 
Mexicans  don't  come,  then,  when  night  falls,  we  must 
go  forward  again  on  foot  and  creep  up  close  to  their 
camp  and  see  if  we  get  a  chance  to  do  anything.  If 
they  have  n't  seen  us,  maybe  we  might  get  a  chance  to 
steal  her  away  from  them." 

"  But  if  they  have  seen  us  ?  "  said  Stephens. 

"  Then,"  returned  the  cacique,  "  they  are  going  to 
try  to  creep  on  us  certainly,  perhaps  kill  us,  perhaps 
in  the  dark  steal  our  horses  ;  the  Thine  men  are  won- 
derful clever  horse-thieves." 

Stephens  meditated.  By  the  Indian  scouts'  account 
it  seemed  to  be  about  an  even  chance  whether  the 
Navajos  had  discovered  them  or  not.  But,  according 
to  his  view  of  the  matter,  if  they  had,  all  idea  of  keep- 
ing concealed  from  them  any  longer  was  ridiculous  ; 
and  their  wide-awake  enemies  would  be  free  to  attack 
them  if  they  chose,  or  else  to  decamp  in  the  night, 
taking  their  prisoner  with  them,  and  very  possibly 
taking  their  pursuers'  horses  as  well.  Here,  to  his 
mind,  was  a  strong  argument  against  waiting. 

True,  there  was  the  other  side  of  the  question  to  be 
considered  :  supposing  that  the  Navajos  had  not  de- 
tected their  presence,  it  was  not  impossible  that  his 
Pueblo  friends,  if  their  pluck  was  equal  to  their  un- 
deniable skill,  might  haply  be  successful  in  effecting  the 
girl's  release  by  some  stratagem.  But,  after  all,  it  was 
only  a  chance,  and  a  slim  chance  at  that,  he  thought  ; 
and,  moreover,  there  was  one  point  about  this  latter 
scheme  which  he  found  it  hard  to  digest — he  would  him- 
self assuredly  be  asked  to  stay  behind  again.  He  was 


Hunting  a  Trail  239 

perfectly  well  aware  b)r  this  time  that  if  they  wanted  to 
creep  on  the  Navajo  camp  for  the  purpose  of  rescuing 
the  girl  by  stealth,  his  Indian  friends  would  not  want 
to  have  him  accompany  them,  on  the  ground  that  as  a 
white  man  he  was  unable  to  move  about  with  the  silent, 
snake-like  litheness  of  a  redskin.  And  they  would  be 
right,  from  their  point  of  view  ;  so  much  he  could  not 
refuse  to  admit  to  himself  in  his  secret  heart ;  he  could 
not  but  recognise  his  inferiority  in  this  qualification, 
knowing  as  he  did  the  red  men's  great  gifts.  But  from 
his  own  point  of  view  this  would  not  do  at  all.  The 
simple  fact  was  that  he  did  not  trust  their  resolution 
unless  he  himself  were  actually  with  them  to  keep 
them  up  to  the  mark.  They  had  just  made  one  re- 
connaissance by  themselves,  leaving  him  behind,  and 
it  struck  him  that  they  had  not  pushed  it  very  vigor- 
ously. One  of  them,  Miguel,  had  advanced  far  enough 
to  be  able  to  count  the  Navajo  ponies.  That  really 
was  all  the  information  they  had  brought  back. 

Now  suppose  they  were  to  start  out  again  to-night, 
by  themselves,  after  her  ;  and  suppose  they  failed  to 
get  her  out  of  the  Indian  camp,  while  he  had  remained 
at  the  rear  and  never  even  made  so  much  as  one  try  at 
it  personally  himself ;  why,  he  would  feel  bitter  humili- 
ation all  his  life  long  in  consequence,  and  the  unhappy 
girl  would  be  dragged  away  to  suffer  fresh  miseries  in  a 
new  hiding-place.  That  was  what  really  galled  him. 
That  they  would  kill  her  he  did  not  now  think,  because 
he  was  convinced  that  the  cacique  was  right  in  saying 
that  what  they  were  after  was  Don  Nepomuceno's 
money.  But  that  she  was  safe  from  violence  in  their 
hands  he  was  far  less  certain.  Whailahay's  super- 
natural influence  might  not  prove  to  be  the  safeguard 
the  cacique  had  represented  it  to  be  ;  and  in  that  case 


240  Lone  Pine 

her  lot  might  be,  nay,  surely  would  be,  that  of  the 
miserable  victim  of  the  Sioux.  This  waiting  was  be- 
coming detestable.  One  solution  presented  itself  with 
overwhelming  urgency  to  his  mind,  a  solution  which 
imperiously  closed  these  dull  debates  and  tedious,  hesi- 
tating delays.  There  was  one  phrase  of  General  Grant's 
— Grant  was  an  Ohio  man  like  himself,  and  his  ideal 
hero, — it  occurred  in  a  summons  that  Grant  once  sent 
to  an  enemy  to  surrender,  and  it  ran,  "  I  propose  to 
move  immediately  upon  your  works."  That  was  the 
right  sort  of  talk.  That  was  the  sort  of  thing  he  would 
like  to  say  to  the  Navajos,  and,  as  they  would  n't 
surrender,  then  do  as  Grant  would  have  done,  "  ad- 
vance immediately."  Yes,  he  would  propose  an  im- 
mediate advance  to  his  four  Pueblo  companions  ;  if 
they  rejected  his  proposal  then  he  would  take  his 
own  line. 

"  Look  here,  Cacique,"  he  said  firmly,  "  we  've  had 
enough  of  this  creeping  and  crawling  around.  Let  's 
wade  right  in.  Come  on.  You  stick  by  me,  and  we  '11 
go  right  at  them,  and  we  '11  lick  spots  out  of  'em." 
His  eyes  flashed,  and  his  powerful  frame  seemed  to 
dilate  and  grow  as  the  fire  of  battle  kindled  in  him. 
The  Pueblo  chief  smiled  on  him  as  one  might  on  an 
impatient  child. 

"  No  sense  in  that  talk,"  he  said  with  calm  superior- 
ity. "  Don't  you  see  ?  they  're  eleven  and  we  're  five  ; 
as  soon  as  you  begin  to  shoot,  they  '11  kill  that  girl 
quick,  so  that  all  of  them  may  be  free  to  fight  us. 
Then  I  think  they  '11  kill  us,  too.  They  're  too 
many  "  ;  and  he  counted  the  whole  eleven  over  on 
his  fingers,  and  shook  his  head  impressively  and 
ominously. 

"They  '11  not  kill   her,"  said  Stephens,   "she  's 


Hunting  a  Trail  241 

worth  too  much  to  them.  And  as  for  their  killing  us 
— well,  two  can  play  at  that  game."  He  patted  the 
Winchester  fondly  as  he  spoke.  "  Come  on,  Cacique, 
and  show  yourself  a  man.  Five  brave  men  can  lick  a 
dozen  cowards  any  day.  Buck  up,  Cacique.  Why, 
you  told  me  that  you  yourself  with  only  one  pard 
killed  seven  Navajos  by  catching  them  off  their  guard. 
Suppose  now  that  these  chaps  have  n't  seen  us,  why 
should  n't  we  do  as  well  ?  " 

"  Ah,"  said  the  other,  "  but  these  Navajos  are  well 
posted  in  their  stronghold.  My -partner  and  I  caught 
ours  in  a  trap.  But  if  we  wait  maybe  we  might  get  the 
chance  to  catch  these  ones  in  a  trap,  too." 

The  American  argued  the  point  a  little  longer,  with 
no  effect,  however,  for  the  cacique's  prudent  decision 
remained  immovable.  But  Stephens  had  hardened  his 
heart  to  the  sticking-point,  and  he  refused  to  wait. 
He  would  go  forward  alone.  He  drew  a  deep  breath 
as  he  turned  his  eyes  from  the  black  Lava  Beds  around, 
and  looked  at  the  distant  hills,  dotted  over  with  dark 
pifion,  shining  in  the  sunlight  far  away,  and  then  up 
at  the  great  overarching  vault  of  blue  above.  Death 
had  no  morbid  attraction  for  him  ;  he  was  a  lover  of 
life,  and  the  air  of  heaven  tasted  good  as  he  drew  it  in. 
But  he  wanted  no  life  that  was  disgraced  in  the  sight 
of  his  own  soul.  He  had  come  out  to  rescue  this  girl, 
and  he  would  do  it  or  die.  These  red  men  shilly- 
shallied ;  their  one  idea  was  to  employ  feints  and 
stratagems,  and  take  no  risks.  They  must  act  accord- 
ing to  their  lights  ;  his  own  course  was  clear. 

"  Then,  Salvador,"  said  he,  looking  the  cacique  hard 
in  the  eyes,  "  since  you  won't  come  on  there  's  only 
one  thing  left  to  be  done,  and  that  is  for  me  to  try  the 
thing  by  myself.  What  will  you  do  if  I  go  ahead  alone  ?  ' ' 

16 


242  Lone   Pine 

The  cacique  made  no  direct  reply,  but  turned  hastily 
to  his  three  companions,  and  some  rapid  remarks  were 
interchanged  between  them.  Quickly  he  produced  a 
grey  powder  of  some  unknown  kind  from  a  little  pouch, 
and  he  shared  it  out  among  his  three  fellow-tribesmen. 
They  all  of  them  bared  their  tawny  breasts  and  rubbed 
it  over  their  hearts,  speaking  magic  words  the  while. 
The  silent  American  gazed  at  them,  half  in  wonder, 
half  in  scorn. 

"  What  's  all  that  amount  to  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Strong  medicine,  Sooshiuamo,  to  make  our  hearts 
brave,"  answered  all  of  them  together. 

"  Then  I  'd  rather  you  'd  got  a  little  sand  in  your 
craws,"  muttered  Stephens  in  English.  He  had  hard- 
ened his  heart  for  a  desperate  venture,  and  their  re- 
luctance to  follow  him  vexed  him  sorely.  '  There 
is  n't  one  of  them,  not  one,  I  don't  believe,  that  's  got 
any  sand,"  he  repeated.  To  have  "  sand,"  means  to 
be  willing  to  fight  to  the  death  when  called  upon,  and 
that  was  just  what  these  men  were  not  willing  to  do. 
Then  aloud  in  Spanish  :  "  What 's  the  good  of  all  that 
tomfool  business?"  he  asked.  '  You  're  only  hum- 
bugging yourselves  about  it.  You  don't  really  mean 
fight."  There  was  bitter  scorn  in  his  tones. 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  can  fight,"  retorted  the  Pueblo  chief, 
not  a  little  nettled  at  the  American's  words,  "  but 
we  're  not  fools — at  least  not  such  fools  as  to  want  to 
get  killed.  But  we  've  got  a  very  good  place  to  fight 
from  here.  If  you  go  forward  by  yourself,  and  they 
shoot  at  you,  then  we  '11  be  able  to  shoot  at  them  from 
behind  these  rocks.  First-class  shelter  here." 

"  Oh,  it  's  Ai,"  said  Stephens  sarcastically  ;  "  it  's 
a  splendid  place  to  shoot  from  at  people  who  are  four 
hundred  yards  away,  and  out  of  sight."  He  gave  a 


Hunting  a  Trail  243 

laugh  of  contempt.  "  Well,  don't  you  make  any 
cursed  error,  though,  and  shoot  me  in  the  back  by 
mistake,"  he  went  on,  while  buckling  his  belt  a  couple 
of  holes  tighter,  and  securing  his  pistol  holster  at  the 
back  of  his  right  hip  so  that  it  should  not  work  round 
to  the  front  of  his  body  when  he  stooped  and  bent 
down  to  creep,  as  he  must  needs  do,  in  the  course  of 
his  advance  on  the  Navajo  camp.  He  saw  to  it  that 
the  buckskin  strings  which  secured  his  moccasins  were 
securely  knotted,  studiously  attending  to  each  detail 
with  the  tense  nerves  of  the  man  who  says  to  himself 
at  every  little  bit  of  preparation,  "  Now  may  be  the 
very  last  time  I  shall  ever  do  that."  To  his  revolver 
and  rifle  he  needed  not  to  look  ;  they  were  freshly 
cleaned  and  oiled,  and  full  of  cartridges  ;  both  would 
go  like  clockwork,  and  he  knew  it.  He  handed  the 
riata  of  the  mare  to  the  cacique.  "  You  look  after  her 
for  me,  Salvador,"  he  said;  "  I  don't  know  that  I  '11 
be  needing  her  again,  but  I  guess  if  I  leave  her  with 
you  I  '11  know  where  to  find  her  if  I  do." 

"  Come  on,  Faro,"  said  he  to  the  dog,  patting  his 
head  and  raising  a  warning  finger  to  bid  him  come 
quietly,  as  if  it  had  been  for  a  stalk  on  some  unsuspect- 
ing stag,  and  turning  his  back  on  the  four  Indians  the 
white  man  went  forward  alone. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

RUN   TO   GROUND 

BENDING  low,  now  creeping  on  all  fours,  now 
running  with  his  body  doubled  to  his  knees, 
diverging  to  right  or  left  as  projections  in  the  Lava 
Beds  seemed  to  offer  a  favourable  screen,  but  ever  and 
always  making  for  the  front,  the  solitary  man  pressed 
on,  his  rifle  grasped  sometimes  in  the  left  hand,  some- 
times in  the  right,  as  the  need  for  using  one  hand  or 
the  other  in  his  advance  arose.  Twice  he  stopped  to 
recover  breath,  while  pushing  his  way  onward,  and 
cautiously  twisted  his  head  around  to  see  what  had 
become  of  his  Pueblo  friends  ;  but  they  were  invisible. 
Their  skill  in  keeping  under  cover  at  least  was  unde- 
niable. On  he  went  again,  till  finally  he  reached  the 
brow  of  the  great  rise  in  the  lava  bed  from  which 
Miguel  had  reconnoitred  the  Navajo  camp.  Past  this 
he  tried  to  get  without  exposing  himself  unduly,  but 
thrice  he  failed  to  find  cover,  and  retreated  again  to 
look  for  a  better  spot.  The  fourth  time  he  found  a 
hollow  in  the  lava  with  a  rise  on  the  right  of  it  that 
promised  him  some  shelter,  and  flat  on  his  face  in  this 
he  wormed  himself  slowly  along,  the  eager  bulldog 
flattening  himself  against  the  rock  by  his  side.  Often 
had  he  crawled  like  this  beside  his  master  to  get  a 
chance  at  a  deer.  But  it  was  more  dangerous  game 

244 


Run  to  Ground  245 

than  deer  that  they  were  stalking  now.  Having  gained 
some  twenty  yards  by  this  creep,  Stevens  slowly  raised 
his  head  to  get  a  view  of  the  new  ground  that  he  knew 
should  become  visible  in  front  of  him  from  here.  He 
caught  sight  of  a  little  green  oasis  amid  the  lava  be- 
yond, of  a  band  of  ponies  grazing  in  it,  and  of  figures 
seated  in  a  group  on  the  far  side  ;  and,  by  Heaven  ! 
amid  the  figures  his  quick  eye  detected  the  flutter  of  a 
pink  muslin  which  he  had  often  seen  Manuelita  wear. 

"  Great  Scot !  "  he  ejaculated,  "  she  's  found.  There 
she  is. ' '  He  raised  himself  a  little  higher  to  get  a  bet- 
ter view,  and  take  in  the  details  of  the  hostile  camp, 
when  suddenly  a  jet  of  smoke  came  out  of  the  lava 
scarce  a  hundred  yards  away,  the  sharp  snap  of  a  rifle 
was  heard,  and  a  bullet  clapped  loudly  on  the  rock 
close  to  his  head.  The  Navajos  were  not  taken  by 
surprise. 

The  Navajos  had  spotted  the  Pueblo  scouts  ;  they 
took  their  appearance  as  a  signal  for  fight,  and  now 
they  were  ready  to  give  them  or  anj'one  with  them  a 
warm  reception.  This  bullet  was  their  first  greeting. 

The  lead,  splashing  off  the  rock,  spattered  sharply 
on  Stephens's  cheek.  Instinctively  he  threw  up  his 
right  hand  and  passed  it  over  the  side  of  his  face,  but 
the  splashes  did  not  even  draw  blood,  and  his  eye  was 
happily  uninjured.  In  a  moment  he  raised  his  rifle  to 
shoot  back,  but  before  he  could  get  a  bead  the  gleam 
of  the  rifle-barrel  from  which  the  shot  had  come,  and 
the  head  of  the  Indian  that  had  aimed  it  disappeared. 
"  Dropped  down  to  reload,"  said  the  frontiersman  to 
himself.  "  He  's  a  goodish  shot,  that  Navajo  son  of  a 
gun  ;  that  was  a  close  call." 

^Lowering  his  head  under  cover,  he  decided  to  try  a 
trick.  Opening  a  recess  in  the  butt  of  his  Winchester, 


246  Lone   Pine 

he  drew  out  four  little  iron  rods  which,  when  screwed 
together,  made  a  cleaning-rod  about  thirty  inches  in 
length.  Then  he  took  off  his  hat,  put  the  end  of  the 
cleaning-rod  inside  it,  and  slowly  hoisted  it  into  view  a 
yard  or  so  away  to  the  right  of  where  he  had  looked 
over  before.  He  lay  on  his  left  side  and  elbow,  with 
his  Winchester  in  his  left  hand,  and  the  right  arm  ex- 
tended raising  the  hat.  Snap  went  the  sharp  report  of 
a  rifle  again  ;  there  was  a  hole  through  the  hat  ;  drop- 
ping the  rod  instantly  he  seized  his  rifle  with  both 
hands  and  raised  himself  for  a  quick  shot.  But  there 
was  nothing  visible  worth  shooting  at.  Once  more  the 
quick  dissolving  puff  of  smoke  and  the  gleam  of  a  rifle- 
barrel  disappearing  were  all  that  he  got  a  glimpse  of. 
His  little  ruse  had  failed,  and  he  was  clearly  discom- 
fited, while  a  loud  whoop  of  derision  rang  out  from 
the  rocks  ;  it  was  the  Navajo  equivalent  for  "  Sold 
again  !  "  It  was  echoed  from  another  quarter,  and 
from  another,  by  wild  unearthly  yells. 

"  Aha,  white  man,"  those  yells  seemed  to  say, 
"  we  've  caught  you  now  !  How  do  you  feel  now? 
This  is  our  country  and  not  yours  ;  aha  !  it  is  our 
home,  and  it  shall  be  your  grave  ;  the  vulture  and  the 
coyote  know  the  Navajo  war-whoop,  and  they  are 
hurrying  to  pick  your  bones.  Aha,  aha  !  " 

The  solitary  man  felt  his  heartstrings  quiver  at  the 
cruel  sounds,  but  he  kept  his  eyes  glued  to  the  place 
where  the  puffs  of  smoke  had  come  from;  the  next  time 
that  devilish  redskin  put  up  his  head  to  fire  he  would 
try  who  could  draw  a  bead  the  quicker. 

At  this  moment  he  was  startled  by  a  loud,  coarse 
voice,  quite  close  to  him  apparently,  but  coming  from 
an  unseen  speaker.  The  words  were  Spanish.  "  Es 
tu,  Sooshiuamo?" — "Is  it  you,  Sooshiuamo  ?  "  The 


Run  to  Ground  247 

voice  was   the  unmistakable  voice  of   Mahletonkwa, 
with  its  thick,  guttural  tones. 

Stephens  hesitated  a  moment.  Should  he  break 
silence  and  answer  ?  He  had  neither  fired  a  shot  nor 
uttered  a  sound  so  far.  But  he  had  been  discovered,  for 
all  that,  and  was  there  any  further  use  in  trying  to 
conceal  his  exact  position  ?  He  decided  to  answer. 

' '  Si,  soy, ' '  he  called  out  in  a  loud  voice.  ' '  Yes, 
that 's  who  I  am.  Is  that  you  there,  Mahletonkwa  ?  " 
But  he  did  not  turn  his  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the 
unseen  voice  that  had  addressed  him;  he  kept  them  fast- 
ened on  the  distant  spot  where  he  expected  the  rifle- 
barrel  to  reappear.  Nor  did  he  judge  amiss.  The 
hidden  marksman,  who  thought  that  the  American's 
gaze  would  be  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  voice  in 
answer  to  which  he  had  spoken,  put  up  his  rifle  for  a 
third  shot  at  him.  Quick  as  lightning  Stephens  brought 
the  Winchester  to  his  shoulder  ;  but  even  now  he  did 
not  pull  the  trigger,  for  as  his  rifle  came  up  the  Indian's 
head  went  down  again,  and  again  those  wild  derisive 
whoops  rang  out,  and  again  the  voice  of  the  unseen  man, 
concealed  so  close  to  him,  addressed  him  in  Spanish. 

'  What  are  you  doing  here,  Sooshiuamo  ?  and  what 
do  you  want  ?  ' ' 

Was  the  voice  nearer  than  before  ?  Was  this  only  a 
trick  of  the  Navajos  to  get  him  off  his  guard  ?  Ste- 
phens mistrusted  that  it  was  so  ;  but  he  coolly  made 
reply.  "  Why  do  your  men  shoot  at  me,  Mahle- 
tonkwa ?  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  I  want  that  Mexican 
girl,  the  Senorita  Sanchez,  whom  you  have  carried 
off."  He  would  see  if  they  were  open  to  an  offer. 

;'  Who  is  with  you?  "  asked  the  voice  of  Mahle- 
tonkwa. '  Who  are  those  behind  you  ?  Where  are 
the  soldiers  ? ' ' 


248  Lone   Pine 

Stephens  determined  to  try  to  run  a  bluff. 

"  They  're  coming,"  said  he  confidently.  "  Don't 
you  delude  yourself.  We  've  got  force  enough  to  take 
her  back.  You  'd  better  surrender  her  quietly  at 
once." 

' '  Pooh ! ' '  answered  Mahletonkwa  tauntingly, ' '  you ' ve 
got  no  .soldiers.  The  storekeeper  burnt  the  letter  you 
sent  to  the  general,  I  know." 

This  was  a  blow  to  Stephens,  and  the  moment  he 
heard  the  Indian  say  it,  he  recognised  the  probability 
of  its  truth.  Backus  must  have  played  traitor,  and, 
what  was  more,  he  must  have  told  the  Navajos  that 
he  had  done  so.  This  Indian  could  never  have  in- 
vented such  a  story  himself. 

"Suppose  he  did,"  returned  Stephens,  determined 
to  keep  up  his  bluff;  "  that  does  n't  prevent  me  meet- 
ing Captain  Pfeiffer  and  a  troop  of  cavalry  on  the  road 
and  bringing  them  along."  He  raised  his  voice  so 
that  all  those  Indians  who  were  within  earshot  might 
hear  him.  ' '  If  you  dare  hurt  one  hair  of  the  senorita's 
head,  you  will  every  one  of  you  be  shot  or  hanged. 
You  mark  me. ' ' 

While  he  was  speaking  the  Navajo  who  had  fired  at 
him  twice  already  put  up  his  head  for  a  third  shot,  but 
he  bobbed  it  down  quicker  than  before  as  the  ready 
Winchester  came  up  to  the  American's  cheek. 

The  prospector  lowered  his  piece  once  more  instead 
of  letting  fly  ;  he  was  determined  not  to  throw  away 
his  first  shot.  He  had  plenty  of  cartridges,  but  he  knew 
that  to  risk  beginning  with  a  miss  would  only  embolden 
his  enemies,  and  he  meant  to  strike  terror  from  the 
start. 

The  red  Indian  is  as  brave  as  the  next  man,  but  he 
objects  to  getting  killed  if  he  can  help  it,  and  he  will 


Run  to  Ground  249 

carefully  avoid  exposing  himself  to  the  aim  of  a  dead- 
shot.  These  Navajos  had  all  seen  Stephens  drive  the 
nail. 

Stephens' s  verbal  threat,  however,  only  provoked 
Mahletonkwa's  derision.  "  Pooh!"  he  retorted  jeer- 
ingly,  "where  are  your  friends  now?  It  is  getting 
time  for  them  to  come  and  save  you.  You  '11  see, 
though,  they  can't  do  it.  We  '11  show  you  what  we 
are.  We  are  Tinne  ;  we  are  men."  The  word  Tinne 
means  "men"  in  the  Navajo  language.  They  call 
themselves  ' '  the  men  ' '  par  excellence. 

"  Chin-music  's  cheap,"  rejoined  Stephens,  taunting 
him  back.  ' '  Say,  have  you  forgotten  your  time  on  the 
Pecos  at  Bosque  Redondo  already  ?  You  felt  like 
'  men  '  there,  did  n't  you,  when  you  were  grubbing 
for  roots  and  catching  grasshoppers  and  lizards  to  eat 
like  a  lot  of  dirty  Diggers  ?  " 

"  Hah  !  "  replied  the  Indian  indignantly,  "  I  never 
saw  Bosque  Redondo.  All  the  soldiers  you  could  get 
could  n't  take  me  where  I  did  n't  choose  to  go.  I  don't 
take  orders  from  any  agent  or  any  general.  Nobody 
ever  commands  me."  There  spoke  the  soul  of  the 
true  son  of  the  desert.  Personal  liberty  was  to  him  as 
the  breath  of  his  nostrils.  Nevertheless,  beneath  his 
boastful  assertions  Stephens  thought  he  detected  an 
undertone  that  might  indicate  a  willingness  to  treat, 
and  he  slightly  altered  his  own  tone. 

"  Mahletonkwa,  you  're  playing  the  fool.  Why 
don't  you  bring  the  girl  back  quietly  ?  " 

;<  Well,  if  you  want  her,"  answered  the  Navajo, 
"  why  don't  you  come  out  of  your  hole  and  talk 
business  ?  " 

'  Yes,  and  get  shot  by  treachery  for  my  pains  !  "  an- 
swered Stephens  indignantly.  "  I  have  n't  attacked 


250  Lone  Pine 

you.     Your  men  began  ;    they  've  shot  at  me  twice 
without  warning. ' ' 

"  Well,"  said  the  Navajo,  "  you  tell  your  men,  if 
you  have  any,  that  they  are  not  to  shoot,  and  I  '11  tell 
mine  not  to  shoot,  and  then  you  and  I  can  talk  to- 
gether. I  'm  willing  to  treat." 

An  idea  struck  Stephens  ;  he  had  already  insinuated 
that  he  had  Captain  Pfeiffer  —  a  name  of  terror  to  the 
Navajoes  and  Apachs — at  his  back;  he  would  keep  up 
that  pretence,  at  least  for  a  time.  He  turned  and 
shouted  aloud  in  English  at  the  pitch  of  his  voice, 
"  O  Captain  Pfeiffer  !  O  Captain  Pfeiffer  !  Keep 
your  soldiers  back.  Don't  let  them  fire  a  shot."  He 
paused,  and  then  continued  shouting  again,  but  this 
time  in  Spanish,  "  O  Captain  of  the  Indian  scouts," 
he  would  not  give  away  the  Santiago  cacique  in  any 
wise  by  calling  him  by  name,  "  let  your  scouts  keep 
their  posts  and  watch,  but  let  them  not  fire  a  shot. 
L,et  them  wait  till  I  return.  Peace  talk." 

The  four  Pueblo  Indians  heard  him,  and  understood, 
and  from  their  hiding-places  they  shouted  back  in 
assent. 

'  You  see, ' '  cried  he  to  his  wily  foe,  ' '  my  men  are 
warned.  Do  you  send  your  men  back  to  your  camp, 
and  come  out  and  meet  me  in  the  open,  eye  to  e3re." 

"  No  treachery  ?  "  said  the  Indian. 

"  No  treachery,"  answered  the  white  man. 

The  Navajo  called  to  his  companions,  and  presently 
Stephens  had  glimpses  here  and  there  of  stealthy  forms 
slinking  through  the  L,ava  Beds  back  in  the  direction 
of  the  oasis  where  their  horses  were  grazing. 

"  Now  you  come  out,"  called  Mahletonkwa  to  the 
American. 

"  Come  forward  then,  you,  too,"  said  Stephens. 


Run  to  Ground  251 

' '  You  first, ' '  returned  the  savage. 

Stephens  decided  to  take  the  risk  and  set  the  ex- 
ample. Grasping  his  rifle  in  his  left  hand,  he  held  it 
across  his  body,  while  he  raised  his  open  right  hand 
above  his  head  in  sign  of  amity,  as  he  rose  to  his  full 
height.  Not  twenty  yards  away,  across  the  ridge  of 
rock  that  had  covered  him  on  his  right  hand,  he  caught 
sight  of  Mahletonkwa's  copper-coloured  visage,  with 
the  watchful  dark  eyes  fastened  on  him,  as  they  peered 
through  a  loophole-like  fissure  in  the  lava,  where  he 
was  crouching. 

Stephens,  his  head  a  little  thrown  back,  his  breast 
expanded,  braced  himself  to  receive,  and  to  return  if 
he  could,  the  treacherous  bullet  he  more  than  half 
expected. 

"  Stand  up  there  you,  Mahletonkwa,  like  me."  He 
spoke  proudly.  "  Be  a  man  ;  stand  up." 

Very  watchfully,  both  hands  grasping  his  gun  at 
the  ready,  the  Indian  rose  to  his  feet.  He  looked  like 
a  fierce,  cunning  wolf  hesitating  whether  to  snap  or 
to  turn  tail. 

With  right  hand  still  extended,  Stephens  moved  step 
by  step  towards  his  enemy,  Faro  keeping  close  to  his 
heels.  Not  for  a  moment  did  the  white  man  remove 
his  eye  from  the  Indian,  alert  to  detect  the  first  motion 
towards  raising  the  gun,  as  he  felt  for  his  footing  on 
the  rough  lava  blocks,  careful  not  to  look  down  lest  an 
unfair  advantage  should  be  taken  of  him.  At  five 
yards  off  he  halted.  The  fissured  rock  behind  which 
Mahletonkwa  had  been  crouching  was  now  all  that 
separated  them. 

' '  Is  there  not  peace  between  us  ?  "  exclaimed  Ste- 
phens. "  What  do  you  fear?  Why  does  your  gun 
point  my  way  ?  " 


252  Lone  Pine 

"  Is  not  your  gun  in  your  hand,  too  ?  "  returned  the 
Indian.  "  Put  it  down  and  I  will  put  mine  down." 

Stephens  lowered  his  right  hand,  and  bending  his 
knees  slowly  he  sank  his  body  near  enough  to  the 
ground  to  lay  his  Winchester  at  his  feet,  but  he  never 
took  his  eyes  off  the  Indian,  and  his  fingers  still  en- 
circled the  barrel  and  the  small  part  of  the  stock. 

"  Down  with  yours  too,  Mahletonkwa, "  he  said 
quietly. 

The  Indian  placed  his  piece  at  his  feet,  hesitated  a 
moment,  and  then  removed  his  hands  from  it  and  sat 
up,  resting  himself  on  his  heels.  Stephens  likewise 
took  his  hands  from  his  weapon  and  sat  on  a  rock. 
Mutual  confidence  had  advanced  so  far,  although  each 
was  still  intensely  suspicious  of  the  other. 

' '  Now,  tell  me, ' '  said  Stephens,  ' '  what  did  you 
carry  off  the  girl  for  ?  " 

"  To  get  our  pay  for  our  dead  brother,"  returned  the 
red  man. 

"  You  did  wrong  then.  You  should  have  com- 
plained to  the  agent  at  Fort  Defiance  if  you  thought 
you  had  a  claim  to  compensation.  You  should  not 
have  done  an  act  of  war  by  carrying  her  off." 

"  Huh  !  Was  it  not  you  who  tried  to  send  for  the 
soldiers  when  we  came  to  claim  compensation  ?  " 

' '  Certainly  I  sent  for  them.  You  refused  a  reason- 
able offer,  and  you  threatened  to  kill  my  Mexican 
friends  instead.  That  was  why  I  sent  for  them." 

' '  It  was  you  who  caused  the  Mexicans  to  refuse  com- 
pensation. They  would  have  paid  up  and  settled  with 
us  if  it  had  not  been  for  you." 

"  No,  not  so.  It  was  you  who  asked  a  ridiculous 
price.  I  urged  Nepomuceno  Sanchez  to  make  terms 
with  you.  But  not  at  your  price.  You  asked  for  the 


Run  to  Ground  253 

dead  man's  weight  in  silver,  pretty  near.  I  don't  be- 
lieve you  know  how  much  a  thousand  dollars  is;  I  don't 
believe  you  could  count  it." 

"  Yes  I  could,"  said  the  Indian  sulkily  ;  "  it  's  a 
back-load  for  a  man  to  carry  a  day's  journey." 

Stephens  figured  on  the  weight,  as  stated  by  the  In- 
dian, for  a  moment.  "  Well,  I  've  got  to  admit  you 
do  seem  to  know  something  about  it,  after  all,"  he  an- 
swered ;  "  your  figures  come  out  about  right.  And,  as 
I  said  before,  it  was  a  perfectly  absurd  amount  to  ask. 
And  then,  to  make  it  worse,  instead  of  trying  to  make 
terms,  you  commit  an  outrage  of  this  kind  by  carrying 
off  an  innocent  girl  by  violence." 

"  She  has  not  been  ill-treated,"  said  the  Indian  ; 
"  she  has  not  been  subject  to  violence  while  we  have 
had  her.  We  have  taken  good  care  of  her."  He 
spoke  very  earnestly  and  with  marked  emphasis. 

"  That  's  your  story,"  returned  Stephens  ;  "  I  only 
hope  it  's  true.  It  '11  be  better  for  you  if  it  is.  But 
anyways  there  's  no  denying  the  fact  that  she  's  been 
brutally  dragged  from  her  home." 

"That's  nothing  much,"  said  the  Indian  briefly  ; 
"  she  's  not  been  ill-treated  "  ;  and  he  explained  clearly 
enough  what  he  meant  by  ill-treatment.  Stephens 
understood  him,  and  shuddered  to  think  of  that  poor 
girl  having  lain  for  two  days  and  nights  completely  at 
the  mercy  of  this  savage.  But  he  remembered  Madam 
Whailahay,  and  the  cacique's  wonderful  account  of  the 
power  of  that  superstition  over  the  Tinne.  It  might 
prove  to  be  true,  as  Mahletonkwa  asserted,  that  the 
captive  had  been  spared  the  worst.  And  the  Navajo 
really  did  seem  to  have  a  notion  of  coming  to  terms. 
But  on  what  basis  were  they  to  deal  ?  How  far  could 
they  trust  each  other  ?  That  was  the  crucial  question. 


254  Lone   Pine 

"  Look  here  now,  Mahletonkwa,"  said  he,  "  you  take 
me  straight  to  where  she  is,  and  let  me  talk  to  her 
quietly  ;  and  you  give  me  your  solemn  promise  that 
you  won't  try  to  make  me  prisoner,  but  will  let  me 
return  to  my  own  men  unharmed,  and  I  '11  see  what 
I  can  do  to  make  peace  for  you."  He  had  a  special 
object  in  making  this  speech;  it  was  to  test  the  truth  of 
the  Indian's  words.  If  the  Navajo  refused  the  permis- 
sion for  him  to  see  her,  he  would  be  discrediting  his 
own  assertion  that  the  girl  was  not  seriously  harmed  ; 
moreover,  though  Stephens  had  small  faith  in  the 
Indian's  honour,  and  was  by  no  means  unprepared  to 
find  that  the  promise,  if  given,  was  given  only  to  en- 
trap him,  he  nevertheless  thought  it  politic  thus  to 
require  it,  that  by  making  such  a  show  of  confidence 
on  his  own  part  in  Mahletonkwa' s  honour  he  might 
beget  a  corresponding  return  of  confidence  from  the 
other. 

The  Navajo  pondered  a  moment  on  the  proposition. 
"  Yes,"  he  said  presently,  looking  up,  his  distrustful 
eyes,  still  full  of  suspicion,  resting  doubtfully  on  Ste- 
phens. "  Promise,  you,  that  your  men  stay  where  they 
are,  and  do  nothing  against  us,  and  I  '11  take  you  to 
her." 

"  I  '11  do  that  much,"  answered  the  American  ;  "  so 
then  it  's  a  bargain." 

"  It  's  a  bargain,"  returned  the  red  man  ;  the  confi- 
dence shown  in  him  was  producing  its  effect. 

"  That  's  all  right  then,"  said  Stephens  cheerfully, 
rising  to  his  feet  and  leaving  his  Winchester  still  on 
the  ground.  He  was  not  one  whit  less  on  the  alert 
than  before,  but  his  cue  now  was  to  betray  no  distrust. 
For  the  first  time  since  their  meeting  he  took  his  eyes 
off  Mahletonkwa  and  looked  back  to  where  he  had  left 


Run  to  Ground  255 

his  Pueblo  friends,  who  had  remained  all  this  time  as 
invisible  as  ever,  waiting  on  the  event  with  the  inex- 
haustible patience  of  their  race. 

"  Hullo  !  "  he  called  back,  "  you  scouts,  stay  there 
where  you  are  till  I  come  back  again.  I  am  going  to  the 
camp  of  the  Navajos  to  see  about  settling  things." 

As  before,  the  Pueblos  acknowledged  his  message 
from  afar  with  a  wild  answering  shout  of  assent. 

He  turned  round,  picked  up  his  Winchester  in  a 
quiet,  undemonstrative  manner,  and  threw  it  into  the 
hollow  of  his  arm.  "  Go  ahead,  Mahletonkwa, "  said 
he,  ' '  you  heard  what  I  said.  They  will  keep  still  till 
I  return.  Let  's  go  to  your  camp,  you  and  me." 

The  redskin  likewise  stood  up  with  his  weapon  in 
his  hand.  "  I  've  got  to  give  some  orders,  too,"  he 
said,  and  he  began  to  speak  in  his  own  tongue.  Much 
to  Stephens' s  surprise  he  was  answered  at  once  from  a 
few  yards  off.  The  head  of  a  concealed  Navajo  sud- 
denly appeared  from  a  fissure  near  at  hand.  Stephens 
instantly  recognised  him  as  the  Notalinkwa  whom  Don 
Nepomuceno  had  said  was  as  big  a  villain  as  the  other. 
He  rapidly  calculated  in  his  mind  what  this  might 
mean.  It  was,  in  a  measure,  evidence  that  the  Navajo 
chief  had  not  been  intending  to  keep  faith.  At  any 
rate,  this  was  proof  positive  that  he  had  only  made  a 
pretence  of  sending  his  men  away  while  he  met  Ste- 
phens alone  ;  and  yet  during  their  colloquy  he  had 
kept  this  confederate  posted  within  a  few  yards  of  him 
the  whole  time.  "  It 's  all  right,"  said  Mahletonkwa, 
in  answer  to  the  look  of  surprise  apparent  on  Stephens' s 
face  ;  "no  treachery,  no  lies.  I  leave  Notalinkwa 
here  to  watch  for  us  that  your  men  don't  advance. 
Come  along.  It  's  all  right." 

That   Mahletonkwa    should    leave  a  sentinel  now 


256  Lone  Pine 

seemed  natural  enough,  and  Stephens  decided  promptly 
to  acquiesce.  He  was  in  for  it  now,  and  he  must  play 
the  game  boldly,  and  with  unhesitating  steps  he  fol- 
lowed the  Navajo  chief  over  the  rugged  lava  to  the 
camp  where  the  prisoner  was  held. 

The  camp  lay  in  a  narrow  sunken  meadow,  of  a  few 
acres  in  extent,  bordered  on  either  side  by  the  black, 
forbidding  wall  of  the  lava  bed.  An  unknown  cause 
had  here  divided  the  lava  stream  for  some  hundreds 
of  yards,  leaving  the  space  between  unravaged  by  the 
desolating  flow.  And  in  the  little  oasis  thus  shut  off 
the  grass  grew  rich  and  green,  looking  tenfold  brighter 
from  its  contrast  with  the  blackened  wilderness  around. 

"  What  a  perfect  place  for  stock- thieves  to  hide  in," 
thought  Stephens  as  he  beheld  it.  "  Of  course  these 
Navajos  know  every  hidden  recess  like  this  in  the 
country."  His  eyes  eagerly  scanned  the  scene  for  the 
form  that  was  the  object  of  his  search.  Close  under 
the  rocks,  on  the  far  side,  was  the  group  of  which 
he  had  already  caught  a  glimpse  from  the  point  where 
he  had  had  his  colloquy  with  the  Indian  chief.  Yes,  it 
was  indeed  her  dress  he  had  discerned.  There  she  was, 
sitting  on  the  ground  amid  the  saddles  and  horse  fur- 
niture, the  Navajo  guards  standing  watchfully  about 
in  the  space  between  him  and  her  as  he  and  Mahle- 
tonkwa  approached.  Guns  were  visible  in  the  hands 
of  most  of  them,  but  some  carried  only  bows.  He 
took  note  that  the  latter  were  strung,  and  that  besides 
the  bow  two  or  three  arrows  were  held  ready  in  the 
fingers  of  the  left  hand. 

But  though  his  swift,  wary  glance  took  in  every  de- 
tail, it  was  to  the  face  of  the  captive  girl  that  his  eyes 
were  most  anxiousl)'  directed.  As  he  approached  she 
sprang  to  her  feet,  and  with  a  cry  of  recognition  ran 


Run  to  Ground  257 

forward  to  meet  him.  Some  of  the  Indians  put  out 
their  hands  as  if  to  restrain  her,  but  at  a  sign  from 
Mahletonkwa  they  refrained.  His  outstretched  hand 
met  hers  in  a  vigorous  clasp. 

' '  You  have  come, ' '  she  cried  in  broken  tones,  ' '  you 
have  come  at  last.  And  my  father, — is  he  safe  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  's  safe,"  said  the  American,  "  and  so  are 
you." 


CHAPTER  XX 
THE  WOLF'S  LAIR 

YOU  'LL  be  all  right  now,"  said  Stephens; 
"you  've  nothing  to  fear."  He  deliberately 
assumed  a  security  he  was  far  from  feeling,  but  it  was 
part  of  the  game  he  must  play.  Her  little  hand  still 
lay  in  his  ;  it  was  the  first  time  it  had  ever  done  so  ;  it 
seemed  as  if  the  firm  pressure  of  his  strong  fingers  must 
reassure  this  poor  terrified  young  thing,  the  wild  leap- 
ing of  whose  pulses  he  could  feel.  Her  breast  heaved 
convulsively  as  she  strove  to  control  her  sobs  ;  the 
great  tear-drops  gathered  under  her  eyelids  and  ran 
down  her  cheeks. 

"Great  God!"  he  said,  "that  you  should  have 
suffered  like  this  !  But  don't  be  afraid;  we  '11  get  you 
out  of  this  all  right."  His  voice  sounded  in  his  own 
ears  strained  and  unnatural.  He  was  trying  his  best  to 
play  his  part  by  appearing  cheerful  and  consolatory, 
while  at  that  very  same  moment  the  strongest  feeling 
in  him  was  a  burning,  fierce  desire  to  pump  lead  into 
the  gang  of  savages  who  had  made  this  tender  creature 
suffer  this  agony  of  terror.  And  but  for  her  presence 
he  might  have  done  it  there  and  then.  To  preserve  her, 
however,  it  was  above  all  things  necessary  to  temporise; 
and  to  preserve  her  must  be  his  first  thought.  He 
must  hear  her  own  story  and  consult  with  her  on  his 

258 


The  Wolf's    Lair  259 

next  move;  but  to  do  that  he  must  talk  in  Spanish, 
which  Mahletonkwa  understood.  What  a  pity  she  did 
not  speak  English,  but  that  could  not  be  helped.  How 
could  he  manage  to  take  her  out  of  earshot. 

"  Oh,  where  is  my  father  ?  where  is  Andre's  ?  "  she 
sobbed,  in  a  passion  of  fear  for  the  possible  fate  of  her 
own  people.  ' '  I  heard  two  shots,  and  then  I  heard  no 
more.  Were  they  there  ?  ' ' 

"  Oh,  they  're  all  right,"  said  the  American  heartily, 
in  the  very  cheerfullest  tones  he  could  muster.  "  Don't 
you  fret,  senorita, "  and  he  patted  reassuring  the  little 
hand  he  held  in  his,  loosing  his  grip  of  his  rifle  to  do 
so  and  squeezing  the  trusty  weapon  against  his  body 
with  his  elbow.  "  It  was  only  me  out  there  that  they 
were  shooting  at  ;  no  harm  done.  Your  father  and 
brother  are  all  right. ' '  Nevertheless  this  repetition  by 
her  of  her  anxious  inquiries  brought  a  disturbing  idea 
into  his  head.  Had  she  any  special  reason  for  think- 
ing that  her  father  and  her  brother  were  wounded  or 
slain  ?  Could  the  cacique's  conjecture  have  been  true, 
and  had  the  Mexicans  overtaken  Mahletonkwa's  band 
on  the  Mesa  del  Verendo  and  fought  with  them  there 
and  been  beaten  off?  He  longed  to  ask  her  about 
this,  but  he  did  not  like  to  do  so  within  hearing  of 
the  Navajos.  Still,  he  reflected,  Mahletonkwa  would 
hardly  have  met  him  so  boldly  if  there  was  fresh 
blood  on  his  hands.  Ah,  but  he  might  have  done  that 
to  lure  him  into  this  trap  ;  and  now,  behold,  here  he 
was  in  the  wolf's  lair!  Thoughts  raced  through  his 
mind  like  lightning.  Then  he  spoke. 

"  Mahletonkwa,  I  suppose  you  make  no  objection  to 
her  coming  with  me  now  ? ' ' 

' '  Not  go, ' '  was  the  somewhat  ominous  reply ;  ' '  stay 
here;  sit  down;  talk." 


260  Lone   Pine 

"  But  I  want  to  talk  to  her  by  herself,"  he  said;  "  I 
suppose  you  won't  object,  then,  if  we  go  to  the  middle 
of  the  meadow  and  sit  down  there  ?  " 

"  Not  go,"  repeated  the  Indian  deliberately;  "  yes, 
you  can  go  and  sit  in  there  if  you  like,"  and  he  pointed 
to  the  overhanging  side  of  the  lava  bed,  close  to  which 
was  the  camp. 

' '  He  means  the  cave  there  where  the  water  is, ' ' 
quickly  interposed  the  girl,  who  was  by  this  time  re- 
covering the  control  of  her  voice,  though  her  breast 
still  heaved  convulsively. 

"  All  right,  then,  certainly,  let  's  come  on  there ; 
that  '11  do  as  well,"  said  the  American  with  assumed 
ease.  Still  keeping  her  hand  in  his,  he  turned  in  the 
direction  indicated,  and  made  a  move  as  if  to  start. 
The  other  Navajos  rapidly  exchanged  some  sentences 
in  their  own  language. 

"  You  must  leave  your  rifle  if  you  go  in  there,"  said 
Mahletonkwa,  turning  to  Stephens  again  after  listen- 
ing to  what  they  said. 

"  No,"  replied  he,  "  certainly  not.  I  'm  no  prisoner. 
No  treachery,  Mahletonkwa."  He  slung  himself  round 
and  faced  the  chief,  placing  himself  directly  in  front  of 
the  captive  girl,  as  if  assuming  possession  of  her. 

"  No  treachery,"  re-echoed  the  Indian  promptly, 
"  only" — he  hesitated  to  say  what  was  in  his  mind, 
but  Manuelita  divined  it  instantly. 

' '  Their  water  is  in  the  cave  in  a  great  rock-hole, ' ' 
she  said,  "  and  he  fears  you  will  take  cover  in  there 
and  then  shoot  at  him  from  thence." 

"  No,  I  won't,  Mahletonkwa,"  said  Stephens  at  once ; 
"  I  won't  do  that,  and  I  had  n't  ever  even  thought  of 
such  a  thing.  It  was  your  own  suggestion  that  I 
should  go  there.  I  had  rather  go  out  in  the  middle 


The  Wolf's    Lair  261 

of  the  meadow  where  I  proposed  first  ;  there  's  no 
cover  out  in  the  meadow. ' ' 

"  No,  not  there,"  said  Mahletonkwa  ;  "  better  you 
go  on  into  the  cave  ' ' ;  and  following  his  direction  they 
went  forward  together  hand  in  hand. 

Right  in  under  the  lava  bed  there  was  visible  a 
wide,  overarching  cavity  extending  some  twenty  or 
thirty  feet  back  and  at  the  far  end  of  this  lay  a  deep 
natural  rock-cistern  full  of  clear  dark  water.  It  was  a 
hidden  well. 

"  This  is  their  spring,"  said  the  girl,  pointing  to  it. 
"  These  Navajos  know  every  secret  water-spring  in 
the  country." 

The  extraordinary  quickness  with  which  she  had 
mastered  her  feelings,  and  now  the  perfectly  natural 
tone  in  which  she  spoke,  and  the  straightforward  way 
in  which  she  referred  to  her  captors,  greatly  relieved 
the  American's  anxiety  ;  had  she  suffered  at  their 
hands  what  his  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  Indians 
had  led  him  to  dread,  it  seemed  to  him  that  she  could 
not  have  spoken  of  them  in  this  unembarrassed  style. 
She  had  raised  her  eyes  to  his  as  she  uttered  the  words, 
and  though  they  were  still  wet  with  the  tears  that  she 
had  shed,  their  glance  was  frank  and  open  ;  there  was 
no  trace  in  her  mien  of  the  dull  despair  of  irreparable 
wrong  he  remembered  in  the  victim  of  the  Sioux.  His 
relief  was  shown  by  the  reassured  expression  in  his 
own  eyes  as  he  returned  her  glance,  and  said  lightly  ; 

' '  Oh  yes,  of  course  they  must  know  them  all  ;  why, 
they  're  simply  bound  to  know  this  whole  country  just 
like  a  book.  They  'd  never  be  able  to  fly  around  in  it, 
keeping  themselves  out  of  sight  in  the  way  they  do,  if 
they  did  n't." 

The  pair  seated  themselves  on  the  rock  forming  the 


262  Lone  Pine 

lip  of  the  cistern.  They  were  here  out  of  earshot  of 
the  Indians  if  they  did  not  speak  loud. 

"  Now  tell  me,  senorita,"  he  began  in  a  low  voice, 
' '  how  you  were  carried  off. ' ' 

She  blushed  and  looked  down.  "  I  hardly  know 
how  to  say  it,"  she  said,  "  it  was  all  so  quick.  I  had 
got  up  and  gone  across  the  patio,  thinking  it  was  near 
daybreak — you  know  there  was  no  moon — and  never 
dreaming  of  the  possibility  of  any  danger  inside  the 
house,  when  I  was  seized  from  behind,  and  gagged 
and  bound  in  a  moment  ;  and  then  they  threw  a  riata 
round  me  and  lifted  me  to  the  top  of  the  house,  and 
down  the  outside  on  to  a  pony's  back,  and  I  was  hur- 
ried off  I  knew  not  where.  Oh,  it  was  dreadful  !  I  was 
gagged  so  that  I  could  not  even  cry  out,  and  I  did  not 
know  where  they  were  taking  me  or  what  would  become 
of  me.  Oh,  I  was  terribly  frightened  !  "  She  paused, 
quite  overcome  for  the  moment  by  the  recollection. 

Stephens  felt  a  passion  of  pity  sweep  through  his 
whole  being  at  the  thought  of  the  helpless  plight  of 
this  lovely  girl  in  the  hands  of  enemies — such  enemies  ! 
'  Yes,"  he  said  soothingly,  taking  her  hand  again 
in  his — they  had  unclasped  hands  as  they  sat  down  ; 
"  don't  be  afraid  ;  you  're  all  right  now  ;  but  go  on  and 
tell  me  about  it." 

"  There  is  n't  anything  to  tell,"  she  answered  with 
a  little  half-laugh  that  was  almost  hysterical.  '  They 
held  me  on  a  horse,  and  we  rode  and  we  rode  and  we 
rode,  till  I  was  so  tired  that  I  thought  I  should  have 
fainted  ;  but,"  said  she  proudly,  "  I  did  n't  faint. 
Then,  when  the  daylight  came,  I  was  blindfolded  with 
a  rag — pah  !  " — she  added  with  a  little  moue  of  disgust 
— "  sueh  a  dirty  rag  ! — I  don't  like  these  Indians,— 
they  !re  not  at  all  clean  people." 


The  Wolf's    Lair  263 

Stephens  could  not  help  smiling-  to"himself  at  this  bit 
of  petulance.  If  she  had  nothing  worse  to  complain  of 
than  their  lack  of  soap  and  water  they  could  afford  to 
smile  a  little  now,  he  and  she  both. 

' '  Yes, ' '  he  assented  with  amused  gravity,  ' '  they  do 
show  a  most  reprehensible  neglect  of  the  washtub.  In 
fact,  I  don't  suppose  there  's  such  a  thing  as  a  proper 
washboard  in  the  whole  Navajo  nation." 

Their  eyes  met  again,  and  they  both  laughed,  he  of 
set  purpose  to  raise  her  spirits,  she  because  she  could 
not  help  it.  The  awful  tension  of  her  captivity,  a  ten- 
sion that  had  never  ceased  for  a  moment,  not  even  in 
her  fitful  and  broken  snatches  of  sleep,  was  relaxed  at 
last.  In  the  presence  of  this  brave  man  who  had  come 
to  rescue  her,  confidence  returned,  and  now  the  re- 
action of  feeling  was  so  strong  that,  had  she  let  herself 
go,  she  could  have  laughed  as  wildly  as  a  maniac.  But 
her  spirit  was  unbroken,  and  she  held  herself  in. 

"  So,  then,  with  that  rag  over  your  eyes  you  had  no 
sort  of  idea  where  you  were  being  taken  to  ?  "  he  said 
interrogatively. 

' '  No, ' '  she  answered  ;  ' '  how  could  I  ?  Except,  in- 
deed, for  the  sun  on  my  neck  sometimes  ;  that  made 
me  think  we  were  going  north  or  west  a  good  deal, — 
at  least  it  seemed  as  if  we  were." 

"  Exactly  so  ;  you  were  quite  right,"  he  said  en- 
couragingly; thinking  to  himself  as  he  said  so  that  she 
must  have  been  a  real  plucky  girl  to  have  kept  her 
head  cool  enough  to  allow  her  to  observe  things  with 
so  much  accuracy.  "Yes,"  he  repeated,  "that  was 
exactly  your  course  at  first,  between  north  and  west. 
And  about  your  food  ?  What  did  you  do  ?  Had  you 
anything  to  eat?  " 

"Nothing  but  raw  dried  meat,"  she  answered,  her 


264  Lone  Pine 

pretty  upper  lip  "curving  with  disgust,  "  and  it  was  so 
hard.  My  mouth  aches  with  the  pain  of  eating  it. 
These  savages  don't  know  how  to  cook  it  properly  ; 
they  chew  it  raw  as  they  go  along,  generally ;  or  if  they 
stop  and  camp  and  make  a  fire,  they  have  nothing  to 
cook  it  in  ;  they  don't  boil  it  or  fry  it ;  they  don't 
always  even  pound  it  with  a  stone  to  make  it  soften, 
but  just  throw  it  on  the  coals  till  it  is  scorched,  and 
then  eat  it  so,  all  blackened  and  burned.  Savages  !  " 
and  again  she  made  a  face  to  express  her  contempt  for 
their  very  rudimentary  ideas  of  cookery.  Once  more 
their  eyes  met,  and  they  both  laughed  again. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  he  with  grave  apology,  "  that  I 
have  been  careless,  too.  I  haven't  brought  along  any- 
thing nice  for  you  to  eat.  In  fact,  I  have  nothing  but 
dried  meat  myself,  not  even  a  scrap  of  tortilla  left,  to 
say  nothing  of  candy  ;  I  wish  I  'd  only  thought  of  it 
when  I  was  starting,  but  the  fact  is,  I  came  off  in  a 
hurry." 

"  Yes,"  she  cried  in  a  repentant  voice,  "  and  I  've 
been  talking  about  myself  the  whole  time.  Did  you 
come  with  my  father  ?  Do  you  know  where  he  is  ? 
How  did  you  find  us  ?  " 

"  The  Pueblo  Indians  knew  of  this  place,"  he  an- 
swered ;  "  they  led  me  here."  He  looked  cautiously 
over  his  shoulder  as  he  spoke,  to  see  if  there  was  any 
Navajo  near  trying  to  play  the  eavesdropper  on  them. 
"  Your  father  and  Don  Andres  had  set  out  with  a 
strong  party  of  Mexicans  before  me.  They  started 
within  an  hour  after  it  was  known  that  you  were  gone. 
But  your  father  sent  word  of  it  all  to  me  up  at  the 
pueblo,  and  I  got  some  of  the  Indians  to  join  me  and 
started  out,  too.  But  we  did  n't  come  the  same  way  as 
Don  Andre's' s  party ;  we  picked  up  the  trail  off  towards 


The  Wolfs  Lair  265 

the  Ojo  Escondido.  You  see,  my  Indians  believed  that 
the  Navajos  certainly  were  making  for  this  place,  and, 
in  short,  they  led  me  straight  here,  and  that  's  how 
we  seem  to  have  got  in  ahead  of  Don  Andres." 

"  How  clever  of  them  to  guess  the  hiding-place!  " 
said  she.  ' '  And  now,  shall  we  go  home  quite  quick  ? 
Perhaps  we  might  meet  my  father  and  my  brother  on 
the  way." 

"  I  've  no  doubt  that  '11  be  all  right  now,"  he  said 
confidently  ;  "  I  must  just  fix  up  things  with  Mahle- 
tonkwa  first."  He  paused  ;  there  was  a  question  he 
could  not  put  to  her  direct,  and  yet  before  treating 
further  with  the  Indian  he  wished  to  feel  absolutely 
certain  whether  he  should  deal  with  him  as  one  guilty 
of  unpardonable  wrong  or  not.  He  tapped  the  butt  of 
his  revolver  significantly  with  his  right  hand,  looked 
her  full  in  the  face  for  a  moment,  and  then  with  an 
abrupt  movement  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  turned  away 
from  her  ;  his  right  hand  half  drew  the  revolver  from 
its  holster,  and  made  a  gesture  as  if  to  offer  it  to  her 
behind  his  back,  but  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  group 
outside  the  cave.  ' '  Now,  senorita, ' '  he  said,  ' '  before 
I  go  to  speak  with  him,  tell  me  one  thing  :  are  you 
content  to  live  ?  Are  you  content  to  go  back  in  peace 
to  your  people  ?  Or  else — I  guess  you  can  understand 
me — here  's  my  revolver  for  you  ;  you  can  make  an  end 
with  that,  and  I  '11  go  out  to  those  savages,  and  then, 
I  swear  by  the  wrath  of  God,  you  shall  be  revenged  on 
some  of  them,  anyhow,  before  I  drop." 

"But  why  ?  "  cried  she  with  a  little  shudder  of  sur- 
prise at  him,  so  unexpected  to  her  was  this  suggestion. 
'  They  have  n't  done  anything  bad  to  me.  I  don't 
want  anyone  to  be  killed.  They  are  very  ignorant, 
uncivilised  folk,  but  they  treated  me  as  well  as  they 


266  Lone  Pine 

knew.  I  'ra  sorry  if  I  complained  about  the  dried 
meat  they  gave  me.  Don't  begin  fighting  with  them, 
please, — not  on  my  account.  I  thought  you  had  made 
peace.  I  want  to  go  home." 

He  turned  and  looked  at  her.  The  naive  simplicity 
of  her  language  reassured  him  completely.  ' '  All  right, 
senorita,"  he  said,  "  I  '11  see  that  you  get  safe  home. 
I  '11  go  and  arrange  with  Mahletonkwa  now.  I  'in 
glad  they  treated  you  as  well  as  they  knew  how.  But 
say,"  he  added,  stooping  over  her  and  drawing  the 
pistol  completely  out,  "  would  n't  you  like  me  to  leave 
this  with  you,  just  in  case  of  accidents?  There  's 
always  a  sort  of  feeling  of  comfort  in  having  a  six- 
shooter  handy. ' ' 

"  No,  no,"  said  she,  making  a  movement  with  her 
hands  as  if  to  push  the  unaccustomed  object  away 
from  her,  "  I  've  never  had  one  in  my  life  to  use.  I 
should  n't  know  what  to  do  with  it  at  all." 

Half  reluctantly  he  returned  it  to  its  case,  thinking 
what  a  difference  there  was  between  a  girl  like  this  and 
the  average  Western  ranch-woman.  American  girls 
who  lived  on  the  frontier  could  shoot  ;  they  were  more 
like  men  in  that  way;  they  were,  comparatively  speak- 
ing, independent  ;  whereas  this  pretty  creature  de- 
pended solely  upon  him  to  protect  her  ;  so  much  the 
more  reason,  then,  he  argued  with  himself,  for  being 
cautious  and  diplomatic  in  his  dealings  with  the  Nava- 
jos  now. 

"  Well  then,  senorita,"  he  said,  "  you  'd  better  stay 
here  a  few  minutes  longer  while  I  go  back  and  speak 
to  Mahletonkwa.  I  guess  it  won't  take  us  long  to  fix 
things." 

He  took  her  hand  in  his  and  held  it  for  a  moment. 
It  lay  there  in  his  firm  clasp  with  a  confidingness  that 


The  Wolfs    Lair  267 

thrilled  through  him  ;  the  sensation  came  on  him  as  a 
new  discovery.  "  Why,  this  was  what  hands  were 
meant  for,  to  clasp  each  other."  The  ten  long  years 
of  the  unnatural  divorce  from  womankind  in  which  he 
had  lived  seemed  to  roll  away  as  a  dream.  He  had  for- 
gotten what  a  girl's  hand  was  like  ;  a  quick  impulse 
came  on  him  to  raise  it  to  his  lips,  to  clasp  her  in  his 
arms  and  console  her,  only  to  be  as  quickl)r  checked 
again.  It  would  not  be  the  fair  thing  ;  here  she  was 
relying  entirely  upon  him  for  protection  ;  it  was  for 
him  to  guard  her,  and  to  do  no  more.  Anything  else 
must  wait — must  W7ait  till  she  was  once  more  in  safety, 
completely  mistress  of  herself  again.  But  the  flood  of 
new  ideas  for  the  future  sped  through  his  mind  with 
lightning  rapidity.  In  moments  of  danger  and  excite- 
ment the  wheels  of  thought  turn  at  a  rate  that  seems 
incredible  afterwards. 

For  one  last,  long  minute  he  stood  there,  his  hand 
locked  in  hers,  looking  into  the  deep,  dark  wells  of  her 
eyes.  Of  what  joy  had  not  his  desolate  past  robbed 
him  ?  Oh,  why  had  he  been  blind  to  his  chances  all 
this  winter,  when  he  might  have  looked  in  her  eyes 
like  this  any  day  ;  now  he  had  found  what  made  life 
worth  living — and  found  it,  perhaps,  too  late  !  Was  it 
too  late  ?  He  would  see  about  that.  With  a  final  press- 
ure of  her  gentle  fingers,  each  one  of  which  he  seemed 
to  feel  separately  pressing  his  in  response,  he  turned 
away  and  strode  out  of  the  cave  towards  the  group  of 
Navajos  in  the  meadow. 

And  who  shall  say  what  were  the  girl's  feelings,  left 
thus  alone  in  the  cave  while  her  fate  was  being  decided 
by  the  men  sitting  out  there  in  the  sun  ?  Hope  lifted 
her  heart  high, — hope  after  despair,  like  the  blue  sky 
after  a  thunderstorm,  unimaginably  bright,  the  hope 


268  Lone  Pine 

of  recovered  freedom,  of  return  to  the  longed-for  hearth, 
of  the  embraces  of  her  father  and  the  dear  ones  at 
home.  But  there  were  fears  too  :  after  all,  might  not 
her  deliverer  fail  yet  ?  he  had  reached  her, — could  he 
rescue  her  ?  would  he,  single-handed,  be  able  to  pre- 
vail over  these  savages  ?  Was  there  nothing  she 
might  do,  weak  woman  as  she  was,  to  help  him  ?  In- 
stinctively her  fingers  felt  within  her  dress  for  the 
beads  she  wore,  and  fast  flowed  her  prayers  for  his 
success  ;  when  she  paused  and  looked  anxiously  out 
she  saw  him  seated  on  the  ground,  the  rifle  in  his  lap, 
the  Indians  in  their  own  style  squatting  round,  and  all 
faces  grave  with  serious  debate.  It  was  her  fate  they 
were  discussing,  but  it  was  his,  too.  In  the  intense 
sunlight  she  could  mark  the  hard-set  lines  of  his  face  ; 
he  was  stubborn  with  the  Indians  about  something  or 
other  ;  they  wanted  something  he  would  not  give  ? 
Why  would  he  not  give  it.  "  Oh,  give  way  to  them," 
she  could  have  cried  to  him.  ' '  Do  let  them  have  it — 
do.  Only  make  peace,  and  let  us  return  together ' '  ; 
peace,  peace,  peace,  that  was  what  she  yearned  for, 
peace  and  freedom !  But  she  spoke  no  word,  she  knew 
that  she  must  leave  it  to  him,  and  once  more  she  fell  to 
her  prayers. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

DRIVING   A   BARGAIN 

A  ND  why  was  this  debate  between  the  American  and 
f\  the  Navajos  so  stubborn  and  tedious  ? 

When  two  shrewd  men  are  each  determined  to  drive 
the  best  bargain  he  can,  and  neither  trusts  the  other, 
the  diplomacy  between  a  frontiersman  and  a  redskin 
may  be  as  lengthy  as  if  it  were  between  rival  ambassa- 
dors of  contending  empires.  In  their  secret  hearts 
both  Stephens  and  Mahletonkwa  were  anxious  to  come 
to  an  understanding,  but  each  thought  it  politic  to 
simulate  comparative  indifference,  and  not  to  give  any 
advantage  to  his  opponent  by  betraying  undue  eager- 
ness. 

Stephens  demanded  at  the  outset  the  immediate  re- 
storation of  the  captive  to  her  father,  safe  and  sound. 
Granted  that,  he  was  willing  to  promise  fair  compensa- 
tion for  the  Navajo  who  had  been  slain,  and  amnesty 
for  the  subsequent  outrage  of  carrying  off  the  girl;  and 
also  he  was  ready  in  person  to  guarantee  these  terms. 
He  could  offer  no  less,  much  as  he  longed  to  see  her 
abductors  punished,  because  it  was  obvious  that,  as 
long  as  they  were  not  secure  from  retaliation,  they 
would  prefer  to  keep  possession  of  her  to  the  last  possi- 
ble moment,  and  take  their  punishment  fighting. 

To  this  first  demand  Mahletonkwa  signified  his  will- 
269 


270  Lone  Pine 

ingness  to  agree,  but  only  on  conditions.  Stephens's 
offer  was  an  amnesty  and  fair  compensation.  That 
was  precisely  what  he  wanted.  Fair  compensation, 
plus  an  amnesty.  But  the  question  arose,  what  was 
fair  compensation  ?  and  here  for  a  time  they  split.  Ste- 
phens maintained  that  Don  Nepomuceno's  offer  of  a 
hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  cash,  was  fair.  Mahle- 
tonkwa  would  not  hear  of  it.  His  dead  brother  was 
worth  a  great  deal  more  than  that.  He  had  asked  a 
thousand  dollars  for  him,  and  a  thousand  dollars  he 
intended  to  have.  Apart  from  that  he  had  no  use  for 
the  captive. 

"  Pay  the  bill,  and  take  the  girl,"  that  was  the  sum 
and  substance  of  his  argument  ;  "  and  if  her  father 
won't  pay,  will  you  ?  " 

Right  here  the  American  saw  it  was  essential  to 
make  a  stand.  If  he  weakly  yielded  to  this  preposter- 
ous claim,  Mahletonkwa  would  be  sure  to  conclude 
that  he  was  scared  into  acquiescence  and  could  have  no 
soldiers  or  Indian  scouts  in  any  force  to  back  him  up. 
That  being  so,  most  likely  the  Navajo  would  raise  his 
terms,  and  ask  perhaps  double,  treble,  quadruple, — any- 
thing he  pleased  in  short, — till  the  whole  affair  became  a 
farce  !  No,  Mahletonkwa's  thousand-dollar  demand 
was  almost  certainly  a  bluff.  Then  why  should  n't  he 
try  a  bluff,  too  ? 

"  I  can't  do  it,  Mahletonkwa,"  said  he  with  an  air 
of  finality,  but  speaking  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger, 
as  one  who  sees  good  business  slipping  through  his 
fingers.  "  I  'd  like  to  come  to  terms  first-rate,  but  I 
can't  meet  you  there.  You  're  too  stiff  in  your  figures. 
It  'snot  a  deal." 

He  thought  of  the  girl  sitting  there  all  alone  in  the 
cave,  and  his  kindly  heart  longed  to  say,  "  What  's  a 


Driving  a  Bargain  271 

thousand  dollars,  more  or  less?  Hang  it  all,  here,  take 
it  !  or  rather,  take  my  word  for  it,  and  let  's  be  off 
home."  But  prudence  whispered,  No. 

Mahletonkwa  calmly  repeated  his  demand.  He, 
too,  thought  it  wisest  to  play  the  part  of  the  close-fisted 
trader,  and  show  no  hurry  to  make  a  bargain. 

"  Well,  look  here  then,  Mahletonkwa  and  Navajos 
all,"  said  the  American,  appealing  directly  to  the 
cupidity  of  the  followers  as  well  as  of  the  chief.  "  It 's 
a  big  thing  I  've  offered  you  on  my  own  hook  already 
in  this  matter  of  the  amnesty.  Jt  's  a  big  thing  for  me 
to  say  I  '11  stand  between  you  and  Uncle  Sam"  (he 
did  not  say  Uncle  Sam,  but  the  Great  Father  at  Wash- 
ington); "  but  I  stick  by  that,  and  I  '11  do  it.  And 
I  've  offered  you  payment  for  the  dead  man,  same  as 
Don  Nepomuceno,  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  ; 
and  you  say  it  aint  enough.  Now,  I  can't  meet  you 
the  whole  way,  but  I  '11  raise  my  offer  a  bit,  and  you 
can  take  it  or  leave  it.  It  's  my  last  word."  He  rose 
to  the  level  of  the  part  he  was  playing,  and  threw  him- 
self into  it  with  all  the  sincerity  he  was  master  of. 
' '  You  see  that  rifle  ' '  — he  pointed  to  the  long,  heavy, 
muzzle-loading  hunter's  rifle  that  lay  beside  Mahle- 
tonkwa's  right  knee — "  well,  I  '11  give  you  the  weight 
of  that  rifle  in  silver  dollars.  Me,  looking  as  I  do,  I  '11 
see  that  you  get  them.  There  's  my  word  upon  it. 
This  is  my  personal  offer  to  compensate  you  for  your 
dead  brother.  You  shall  have  silver  dollars  enough  to 
weigh  down  that  rifle  on  the  scales.  I  don't  know  how 
many  that  '11  take,  but  it  's  bound  to  be  a  right  big 
pile.  Now  understand  me,  you  chaps,  we  '11  take  a 
balance,  a  fair  and  square  balance,  and  put  the  rifle  in 
one  scale  and  pour  silver  dollars  into  the  other  till  the 
rifle  kicks  the  beam.  Sabe?  " 


272  Lone  Pine 

The  sons  of  the  desert  looked  one  at  another,  and 
curious  excited  sounds  came  from  their  lips,  and  signifi- 
cant gestures  were  made.  Some  of  them  had  actually 
seen  scales  used  to  weigh  out  the  rations  at  Fort  De- 
fiance, and  they  quite  understood  what  they  were  for, 
and  made  the  thing  clear  to  the  less  instructed  among 
them.  The  American  saw  that  his  offer  had  created 
an  impression,  and  he  did  his  best  to  rub  it  in. 

"  You  '11  find  it  pay  you  to  accept,  Mahletonkwa, " 
he  said.  "  You  '11  be  able  to  fix  things  in  grand  style 
with  all  that  silver.  Here,  let  's  have  a  look  at  that 
rifle  of  yours,  and  let  me  heft  it. ' '  He  put  out  his  hand 
cautiously — no  objection  was  offered  ;  he  laid  it  on  the 
piece — still  no  objection  ;  he  raised  the  rifle  slowly  on 
both  palms,  dandling  it,  as  it  were,  up  and  down. 
"  Why,  it  's  a  real  heavy  gun.  It  don't  weigh  less 
than  twelve  or  thirteen  pounds,  I  reckon.  I  tell  you 
that  '11  come  to  no  end  of  a  lot  of  silver  ;  all  silver  dol- 
lars, mind  you  ;  and  it  '11  take  hundreds  of  them,  you 
bet,  to  weigh  down  this  gun."  He  turned  his  eyes 
from  one  to  the  other  of  the  redskins,  and  they  seemed 
to  understand  him  as  he  laid  it  down  again  beside  the 
chief. 

It  was  clear  that  his  way  of  putting  it  had  a  great 
effect  on  the  Navajos.  To  tell  the  truth,  most  of 
Mahletonkwa' s  followers  had  by  this  time  begun  to  tire 
of  their  recent  escapade.  They  had  sallied  out  from 
their  own  country  under  his  leadership,  at  the  sum- 
mons of  Ankitona,  the  headman  of  their  clan,  to  obtain 
the  redress  for  the  death  of  a  member  of  their  clan 
called  for  by  their  peculiar  religion.  But  so  far  they 
had  not  taken  much  by  their  move.  They  had  not  as 
yet  got  any  compensation  ;  they  had  carried  off  a  Mexi- 
can girl  ;  and  now  they  were  beginning  to  feel  that  in 


Driving  a  Bargain  273 

doing  so  they  had  decidedly  risked  putting  their  heads 
in  a  noose.  They  began  to  believe  they  were  in  danger 
of  being  surrounded  by  United  States  soldiers,  here  in 
the  Lava  Beds,  and  were  likely  to  have  an  extremely 
unpleasant  time  of  it  ere  long  unless  they  succeeded  in 
escaping  to  a  new  hiding-place.  The  cool  confidence 
shown  by  this  solitary  man  coming  forward  so  boldly 
to  treat  with  them  convinced  them  that  he  must  have  a 
strong  force  behind  him.  And  now  he  was  making  an 
offer  of  a  complete  amnesty,  plus  a  heap  of  silver  dol- 
lars. First  one  and  then  another  began  to  urge  Mahle- 
tonkwa  to  close  the  bargain.  He  was  a  chief,  of  course, 
and  upon  him,  as  such,  rested  the  responsibility  of 
making  decisions  ;  but  a  Navajo  chief  is  practically 
very  much  in  the  hands  of  his  followers.  When 
actually  under  fire  they  may  obey  him  well  enough,  but 
when  it  comes  to  questions  of  policy,  if  the  greater 
number  are  dissatisfied  with  his  schemes  or  his  methods, 
they  simply  leave  him,  and  he  finds  himself  deserted. 
He  has  no  power  to  coerce  them.  Call  this  anarchy,  if 
you  will,  or  call  it  liberty,  it  is  at  all  events  the  very 
opposite  of  despotism.  No  Navajo  chief  can  play  the 
despot;  and  Mahletonkwa,  conscious  that  his  authority 
was  slipping  from  him,  acceded  to  the  terms,  which 
indeed  gave  him  nearly  all  he  wanted. 

"  Bueno,  Sooshiuamo,"  said  he,  using  Stephens's 
Indian  name  in  a  friendly  way,  "  I  accept  your  offer, 
and  there  shall  be  peace  between  us.  But  you  must 
agree  to  stay  with  us  when  we  come  out  from  the  Lava 
Beds,  and  you  must  go  with  us  all  the  way  to  San 
Remo  for  the  money,  and  you  must  prevent  any  trouble 
with  the  soldiers  or  with  the  Mexicans  if  they  try  to 
hurt  us.  You  promise  that  ?  ' ' 

' '  Yes, ' '  said  Stephens  slowly,  weighing  every  word 

18 


274  Lone  Pine 

of  the  Indian's  speech,  "  I  '11  promise  that.  I  '11  see 
you  safe  to  the  settlement  and  pay  you  the  money  with 
ray  own  hands.  And  if  we  meet  any  Americans  or 
Mexicans  who  are  after  you,  I  '11  explain  that  it  is 
peace,  and  they  are  not  to  attack.  I  '11  guarantee  that 
much." 

"  Then,"  said  the  Indian,  "  it  is  peace  between  us  ; 
peace  is  made  and  sure. ' ' 

"  Peace  it  is,"  said  Stephens,  rising  ;  "  and  now  by 
your  leave  I  '11  go  and  tell  the  senorita,  and  then  go 
and  tell  my  men. ' ' 

He  hurried  back  to  the  cave  where  he  had  left  her, 
and  found  her  on  her  knees.  He  had  laughed  at  the 
orisons  offered  up  by  the  Santiago  people  before  blast- 
ing the  acequia  ;  he  did  not  laugh  at  hers. 

She  sprang  up  at  his  approach. 

"  We  've  fixed  it  all  right,"  he  said,  "  so  don't  you 
fret,  senorita.  I  was  real  sorry  to  have  to  keep  you  so 
long  in  suspense,  but  I  could  n't  well  help  it.  I  '11  ex- 
plain all  that  to  you  later.  But  peace  is  made,  and 
we  're  going  back  to  San  Remo  together,  you  and  me, 
along  with  the  Navajos,  and  we  '11  start  right  away. 
But  I  've  got  to  go  over  to  where  I  left  my  party  yonder 
in  the  Lava  Beds,  and  explain  the  whole  arrangement 
to  them.  Otherwise  there  might  be  considerable  of  a 
fuss.  Now,  don't  you  fret,"  he  took  her  hand  again 
to  reassure  her,  "  you  '11  be  all  right,  and  I  won't  be 
gone  many  minutes.  You  're  sure,  now,  you  won't  get 
scared  ? ' ' 

"  If  you  say  you  will  come  back,"  she  answered,  "  I 
know  you  will  come  back,  and  I  will  try  to  be  brave 
till  you  do." 

With  one  glad  pressure  of  her  hand  and  one  more  long 
look  into  her  eyes  he  turned  away  and  left  her.  She 


Driving  a  Bargain  275 

watched  his  active  steps  as  he  hastened  across  the  oasis 
and  sprang  up  the  broken  lava  rocks  beyond.  On  the 
summit  he  turned  and  looked  back  in  her  direction, 
and  waved  his  hand  as  a  signal  to  her  that  all  was  well. 
Five  minutes  later  he  bounded  down  into  the  grassy 
opening  where  his  mare  was  feeding  with  the  four 
horses  of  the  Pueblos.  The  cacique  and  the  three 
others  ran  to  meet  him. 

' '  How  have  you  succeeded  ?  ' '  exclaimed  the  ca- 
cique. "Who  was  that  shooting?  Have  you  shot 
any  of  them  ?  ' ' 

"  Not  me,"  replied  Stephens.  "  I  've  been  making 
peace,  I  have.  I  found  Mahletonkwa  had  just  as  lief 
trade  as  fight,  and  a  bit  more  so.  '  Ditto,'  says  I  to 
that,  and  just  talked  peace  talk  to  him,  and  we  made 
things  square.  Cacique,  you  were  plumb  right  about 
Whailahay  ;  they  have  n't  harmed  the  girl.  I  've 
fixed  it  up  with  them  about  compensation  for  their 
dear  departed,  and  we  're  all  going  back  to  San  Remo 
together,  to  take  her  home  and  get  the  silver  for  them. 
See?" 

The  cacique  looked  rather  disconcerted.  "  I  don't 
want  to  join  company  with  these  Navajos  out  here," 
he  said  decidedly. 

"  Oh,  I  did  n't  mean  you,"  rejoined  the  American  ; 
"  I  quite  understand  that  you  might  feel  a  delicacy  in 
obtruding  yourself  on  them  out  here  in  No-man's-laud. 
They  might  have  heard  of  that  little  affair  of  the  seven 
Navajos  in  the  sweat-house,  eh  ?  and  this  might  seem 
a  good  time  and  place  to  pay  off  old  scores  ?  ' '  His 
spirits  had  gone  up  with  a  bound,  and  he  found  it  im- 
possible not  to  chaff  the  cacique  a  little.  "  No,  Ca- 
cique ;  you  brought  me  here  upon  their  trail  just  like  a 
smell-dog,  as  I  wanted  you  to  do,  and  I  've  managed 


276  Lone  Pine 

the  rest  of  the  business  myself.  Now,  what  I  want 
you  to  do  is  to  take  their  back  trail  and  meet  Don 
Nepomuceno  and  his  party — they  're  sure  to  have 
found  it  again  by  now  and  to  be  following  it  up — and 
you  tell  them  how  I  've  fixed  things,  and  say  the 
senorita  's  all  right  and  we  '11  meet  them  in  San  Remo. 
Stop,  I  '11  write  it  down  here  on  a  scrap  of  paper  and 
you  can  take  it  to  them  ;  that  '11  be  best."  He  pro- 
duced a  pencil  and  a  small  note-book,  tore  out  a  leaf 
and  hastily  wrote  on  it  his  message  to  the  Mexican. 
'  There,  Cacique,"  said  he  handing  it  to  him,  "  give 
that  to  Don  Nepomuceno  when  you  see  him,  and  tell 
him  the  whole  show.  I  'd  like  to  have  you  wait  and 
meet  us  at  San  Remo  if  you  get  back  there  before  us. 
Hasta  luego" 

He  gathered  up  the  riata  of  the  mare,  and  started 
to  pick  his  way  with  her  through  the  Lava  Beds  to 
the  oasis  where  the  Navajos  were  camped,  while  the 
Pueblos  speedily  made  themselves  scarce  in  the  oppo- 
site direction. 

By  the  time  Stephens  reached  the  camp  the  Navajos 
had  collected  their  scanty  equipment  and  bound  it  on 
their  saddles  ;  they  all  took  a  long  drink  of  pure,  cool 
water  from  the  hidden  "  tinaja  "  or  rock-cistern,  and, 
leading  their  animals,  made  the  best  of  their  way  over 
the  Lava  Beds  to  the  open  country.  Stephens  ex- 
plained to  Mahletonkwa  before  starting  that  he  had 
arranged  for  his  party  to  return  to  San  Remo  by  the 
route  they  came. 

"  Bueno"  said  Mahletonkwa  shortly,  "  and  we  will 
go  by  another.  I  know  many  trails  through  the  sierra; 
there  is  one  that  I  like  well,  and  I  will  take  you  by  it." 

"  Right  you  are,"  said  Stephens,  "  that  suits  me. 
Lead  on."  His  object  now  was  to  avoid  any  chance 


Driving  a  Bargain  277 

of  a  collision  between  the  Navajos  and  Mexicans  till 
they  should  meet  at  San  Remo. 

Manuelita  walked  beside  him  as  they  followed  the 
winding  and  difficult  trail  taken  by  the  Navajos 
through  the  Lava  Beds,  but  as  soon  as  they  emerged 
from  them  and  found  themselves  on  the  smooth  ground 
beyond,  he  spread  a  blanket  over  the  saddle  to  make 
it  easy  for  her,  and  insisted  on  her  riding  Morgana 
while  he  ran  alongside. 

After  a  while  the  leading  Indians  came  to  a  halt, 
and  were  seen  to  be  examining  the  ground  intently. 
When  vStephens  and  the  girl  came  up  to  them  he  found 
that  they  had  cut  their  own  trail  made  by  themselves 
the  previous  day.  But  there  were  more  hoof-marks  in 
it  now  than  those  of  the  eleven  ponies,  and  they  were 
busily  studying  the  newer  signs.  Stephens  looked  at 
them,  too  ;  they  were  undoubtedly  the  tracks  of  the 
pursuing  party  under  Don  Nepomuceno  ;  it  was  hard 
to  say  just  how  many  of  them  there  were,  as  they  were 
confused  with  those  of  the  Indians,  and  the  Mexican 
horses  being  barefooted,  like  the  Indian  ponies,  it  was 
impossible  to  distinguish  them.  But  there  were  more 
than  a  dozen  at  least,  and  not  one  of  them  wore  shoes. 

"  No  soldiers  in  this  party, "  said  Mahletonkwa,  look- 
ing up  at  Stephens  suspiciously.  United  States  army 
horses  are  always  shod,  as  he  well  knew. 

"  Certainly  not,"  answered  the  American  unhesitat- 
ingly. '  These  are  not  the  tracks  of  my  party.  I 
never  was  over  this  piece  of  ground  before.  My  scouts 
cut  your  trail  farther  on." 

'  You  had  the  Santiago  scouts  with  you  ?  ' '  said  the 
Navajo  ;  "  I  was  sure  of  that  when  you  came  to  the 
Lava  Beds  so  quick.  Which  of  them  did  you  have  ? — 
the  cacique  ?  ' '  His  dark  eyes  snapped  as  he  men- 


278  Lone  Pine 

tioned  him.  "  Miguel,  perhaps,  that  tall,  slim  one 
with  the  scar  on  his  cheek  ? ' '  He  knew  a  good  deal 
about  the  Santiago  folk  ;  after  the  submission  of  the 
Navajos  had  ended  the  long  wars,  there  had  been  some 
intercourse  between  the  former  enemies. 

Stephens  thought  it  better  not  to  give  any  names. 
"  Oh,  I  got  some  good  trailers,"  he  said  easily  ;  "  but 
there  are  other  Pueblos  besides  Santiago,  and  there  are 
trailers  in  all  of  them.  Cochiti  has  men  who  are  first- 
class  on  reading  signs." 

"  I  know  you  had  that  Santiago  cacique,"  said 
Mahletonkwa  cunningly. 

"  Then  if  you  think  so,  you  'd  better  ask  him  to  tell 
you  about  it  when  we  get  back  to  the  settlement,"  re- 
joined the  American. 

They  entered  the  sierra  a  little  before  nightfall,  and 
were  soon  involved  in  a  difficult  and  tortuous  way 
amidst  pine-crowned  crags  and  precipices.  Sometimes 
their  horses'  feet  clattered  upon  shady  slopes  of  debris  ; 
at  times  they  trod  softly  upon  a  padded  carpet  of  fir- 
needles. They  were  traversing  a  little  canon  just  after 
sunset,  when,  nearly  two  hundred  yards  away  on  the 
opposite  side,  the  forms  of  a  herd  of  deer  were  silhou- 
etted against  the  fading  sky. 

Instinctively  Stephens  threw  up  his  rifle  to  his 
shoulder  ;  he  got  a  bead  as  well  as  he  could,  though  it 
was  too  dark  to  pick  the  exact  spot  on  the  animal's  side 
as  he  pressed  the  trigger,  and  at  the  sharp  report  the 
band  of  dark  forms  disappeared  as  if  by  magic,  but  the 
loud  "  thud  "  of  the  bullet  proclaimed  that  one  of  them 
had  been  struck.  Instantly  he  and  three  of  the  Navajo 
young  men  dashed  on  foot  across  the  little  gorge  and 
scaled  the  opposite  steep,  Faro  leading  the  way.  The 
bulldog  nosed  around  for  a  moment  where  the  deer  had 


Driving  a  Bargain  279 

been,  and  as  the  climbers  emerged  on  top  they  heard 
him  give  one  joyful  yelp  as  he  darted  forward  on  the 
scent  ;  two  minutes  later  they  heard  his  triumphant 
bark,  and  when  they  got  up  to  the  spot  they  found 
him  over  the  dead  carcass  of  a  yearling  buck,  shot 
through  the  lungs.  It  had  run  some  five  hundred 
yards  before  it  dropped,  and  the  bulldog  coming  up 
had  seized  it  by  the  throat  and  finished  the  business. 

The  Indians  were  loud  in  praise  of  the  dog,  as  their 
knives  rapidly  and  skilfully  dressed  and  cut  up  the 
game,  while  Stephens  looked  on  a.nd  rewarded  his  pet 
with  the  tit-bits.  All  three  of  the  Navajos  spoke 
Spanish  well  enough  for  him  to  understand  them  as 
they  praised  the  dog,  but  when  they  turned  over  the 
deer,  and  found  the  place  where  the  conical  bullet  had 
come  out  on  the  other  side,  they  changed  from  Spanish 
into  Navajo,  and  signficant  laughter  followed  as  they 
pointed  out  to  one  another  the  two  holes,  and  then 
pointed  to  Stephens' s  rifle.  Suddenly  it  flashed  across 
him  that  they  had  got  a  joke  pn  about  something,  and 
that  it  was  not  a  thing  new  to  him.  Their  manner 
made  him  think  instantly  of  the  day  when  he  drove  the 
nail,  and  Mahletonkwa  pointed  to  his  Winchester  and 
told  the  funny  story — funny,  that  is  to  say,  for  the 
Navaj  os — about  the  murder  of  the  prospector.  Though 
he  understood  no  word  of  what  they  said,  their  gestures 
were  too  full  of  meaning  for  him  to  mistake  them. 

"  I  say,"  said  he  abruptly,  but  with  seeming  care- 
lessness, "  aint  this  the  place  that  Mahletonkwa  told 
that  story  about  ?  About  the  man  who  was  shot  with 
his  own  rifle,  you  know  ?  " 

The  young  Indian  who  was  stooping  over  the  game 
stopped  and  withdrew  his  hand  from  the  deer.  "  What 
makes  you  think  that  ?  "  he  asked. 


280  Lone  Pine 

"  Well,"  said  Stephens,  "  he  said  it  happened  up  in 
these  mountains,  and  I  heard  him  say,  also,  that  he 
was  particularly  fond  of  this  trail  we  're  on.  So  I  just 
guessed  it  might  have  been  pretty  nigh  where  we  are 
now. ' ' 

"So  it  was,"  said  the  Indian,  whom  Stephens  had 
learned  to  know  as  Kaniache,  "  it  was  right  up  this 
gulch  where  it  opens  out  above."  They  had  crossed  a 
divide  in  their  chase  after  the  wounded  buck,  and  were 
in  another  little  canon  not  unlike  the  one  where  they 
had  left  the  rest  of  the  party.  The  darkness  was  in- 
creasing every  minute,  but  the  Indian  knew  precisely 
where  they  were.  Stephens  marked  the  place  in  his 
memory  as  well  as  he  could,  and  resolved  that  he  would 
return  to  it  as  soon  as  might  be,  to  seek  out  and  bury 
the  bones  of  the  unfortunate  victim  of  Navajo  treachery 
and  cunning. 

They  gathered  up  the  meat  of  their  quarry,  and 
hastening  back  to  where  the  rest  of  the  party  were 
waiting  for  them,  they  pushed  on  for  fully  two  hours 
by  the  light  of  the  moon,  in  spite  of  the  difficulty  of  the 
way.  Camp  was  made  at  last  by  a  little  stream  in  a 
park,  and  a  fire  was  lighted,  though  Mahletonkwa  was 
so  suspicious  of  being  followed  that  he  put  a  couple  of 
scouts  to  watch  their  back  trail  and  signal  the  approach 
of  any  possible  pursuers. 

Stephens  sat  down  by  the  fire,  and  set  to  work  roast- 
ing pieces  of  the  venison  on  spits  of  willow  for  Manuelita 
and  himself.  She  was  tired,  but  not  exhausted,  and  he 
could  not  but  wonder  at  the  power  she  exhibited  of  en- 
during fatigue,  she  who  ordinarily  took  no  more  exer- 
cise than  that  involved  in  doing  her  share  of  the  labours 
of  the  household,  varied  by  walking  over  to  the  store 
or  paying  a  visit  to  a  neighbour.  But  she  came  of  a 


Driving  a  Bargain  281 

tireless  race.  It  might  be  said  of  the  Spanish  con- 
quistadores,  that  for  them— 

"  The  hardest  day  was  never  too  hard,  nor  the  longest  day  too 
long," 

and  this  endurance, has  descended  to  the  women  sprung 
from  them  as  well  as  to  their  sons. 

Stephens  aired  for  her  benefit  the  only  wraps  he  had 
to  offer  her,  the  blankets  that  had  been  under  and  over 
the  saddle  ;  but  he  went  to  a  clump  of  young  pines 
growing  near,  and  with  his  hunting-knife  hewed  off  a 
quantity  of  the  small  shoots  from  the  ends  of  the 
boughs. 

'  You  '11  never  guess  in  a  month  of  Sundays,  senorita, 
what  we  call  these  on  the  frontier, ' '  said  he,  as  he  pro- 
ceeded to  arrange  them  in  neat  layers,  to  make  for  her 
an  elastic  couch.  "  Give  it  up  ?  We  call  them  '  Colo- 
rado feathers,'  and  they  're  no  slouches  in  the  way  of 
feathers  neither.  Besides,  they  say  the  smell  of  turpen- 
tine 's  mighty  wholesome.  The  doctors  in  Denver  re- 
commend camping  out  to  the  consumptives  who  come 
out  for  their  health,  just  that  they  may  get  the  benefit 
of  them.  Spruce  makes  the  best,  and  it  's  the  most 
aromatic." 

"  Here,  you  get  out,  Faro,"  he  apostrophised  his 
dog,  who  had  as  usual  promptly  taken  possession  of 
the  blankets  as  soon  as  they  were  spread  down,  ' '  you 
get  out  of  that,  that 's  not  your  place;  "  and  he  pushed 
him  off. 

"  Oh,  don't  hurt  him  !  "  cried  the  girl  ;  "he  likes  it; 
let  him  stay." 

;<  Well,  all  right,  then,  sefiorita,"  he  said,  pleased 
that  his  pet  should  find  favour,  "  if  you  don't  mind 
having  him  there,  he  '11  lie  at  your  feet  and  keep  them 


282  Lone  Pine 

warm  ;  and  now  you  'd  better  lie  down  and  rest  your- 
self all  you  can,  for  we  aint  home  yet,  and  )-ou  can  bet 
it  's  a  '  rocky  road  to  Dublin  '  through  this  sierra  that 
we  ' ve  got  to  go  to-morrow  ' ' ;  and  with  these  words  he 
turned  away  to  the  fire. 

"  But,"  cried  she,  looking  at  the  provision  he  had 
made  for  her,  "  you  have  kept  no  blanket  for  yourself  ; 
you  must  take  one  or  you  will  freeze. ' '  His  generosity 
distressed  her. 

"  No  fear,"  he  returned  without  looking  at  her, 
while  he  deliberately  settled  himself  down  beside  the 
fire  and  lit  his  pipe  with  a  coal,  "  no  fear,  senorita. 
I  'm  calculating  to  keep  guard  anyhow,  and  there  's 
lots  of  firewood  here.  That  's  the  beauty  of  a  mount- 
ain camp." 

"  No,  thank  you,  Mahletonkwa, "  this  was  spoken 
to  the  chief,  who  at  this  juncture  came  and  offered  him 
a  blanket,  being  anxious  to  conciliate  the  man  whom 
he  now  depended  on  for  so  much,  "  not  for  me,  thank 
you  ;  muchas  gratias ;  I  'm  all  right.  I  'm  going  to 
keep  this  fire  warm,  and  watch  the  '  Guardias '  circle 
round  the  North  Star."  The  "  Warders,"  two  bright 
stars  of  the  Little  Bear,  act  as  the  hour-hand  of  a  clock 
which  has  the  Pole  for  its  centre,  and  by  them  a  fron- 
tiersman on  night- herd  knows  when  his  watch  begins 
and  ends. 

The  Indians,  suspicious  as  ever  of  a  possible  attack, 
kept  aloof  from  the  fire,  and  lay  down  to  sleep  at  a 
little  distance  outside  the  ring  of  light.  Stephens 
established  himself  on  the  windward  side  of  the  fire, 
and  set  up  the  skin  of  the  buck  he  had  shot  as  a  wind- 
break behind  his  back  against  the  chill  night  air  of  the 
sierra. 

Tired  as  he  was  with  his  long  day's  walk  on  foot,  he 


Driving  a  Bargain  283 

lay  there,  warming  first  one  side  and  then  the  other, 
and  replenishing  the  fire  at  intervals,  while  he  listened 
to  the  well-known  sounds  that  from  time  to  time  broke 
the  silence  of  the  hours  of  watch — the  sough  of  the 
night  wind  in  the  pines,  like  waves  beating  upon  a  far- 
off  shore  ;  the  strange,  nocturnal  love-call  of  an  unseen 
bird  ;  the  long-drawn,  melancholy  howl  of  a  night- 
wandering  wolf,  seeking  his  meat  abroad  ;  and  once 
his  ears  thrilled  at  the  agonising  death-cry  of  a  creature 
that  felt  the  sudden  grip  of  the  remorseless  fangs  of  the 
beast  of  prey. 

"  Beasts  of  prey,"  he  mused,  "  yes,  that  's  just  what 
we  humans  are  too,  the  most  of  us,  and  we  take  our 
turn  to  be  victims.  Killers  and  killed.  Well,  if  any- 
body 's  to  blame  for  it,  I  suppose  it  's  the  nature  of 
man." 

Going  back  in  his  mind  over  the  events  of  the  day, 
he  recalled  the  fierce  desire  to  shed  blood  that  had  pos- 
sessed him  when  he  left  the  cacique  and  his  fellows  and 
set  out  to  handle  these  Navajos  alone.  It  seemed  as 
if  that  much-angered  man  with  the  tense-strung  nerves 
was  some  other  than  he.  Now,  peace  was  made,  the 
captive  was  safe  ;  and  as  he  looked  at  the  girl  sleeping 
there  unharmed,  dreaming,  it  might  well  be,  of  her  safe 
return  home  on  the  morrow,  he  felt  a  sort  of  mechanical 
wonder  at  the  rage  that  had  then  filled  his  heart.  He 
thought,  too,  of  the  shots  that  had  been  fired  at  him  by 
the  Navajo, — he  had  not  cared  to  inquire  which  one  it 
was, — and  in  imagination  he  felt  the  hot  lead  splash  on 
his  cheek  again.  He  had  been  mighty  near  the  jump- 
ing-off  place  that  time,  sure.  And  yet  it  had  been  all 
about  nothing,  so  to  speak.  It  had  been  a  sort  of  mis- 
take. He  had  wanted  peace,  really,  and  so  had  they  ; 
yet  how  near  they  had  come  to  turning  that  little  oasis 


284  Lone  Pine 

into  a  slaughter-house.  Fate  was  a  queer  thing.  He 
looked  up  at  the  velvet  black  of  the  sky  overhead  and 
the  endless  procession  of  the  stars.  The  moon  had 
gone,  but  Jupiter  still  blazed  in  the  western  heavens. 
What  did  it  all  mean,  and  what  was  one  put  here  for, 
anyway  ?  He  confessed  to  himself  that  he  did  not 
know;  that  he  had  no  theory  of  life;  he  lived  from  day 
to  day,  doing  the  work  that  lay  next  him,  and  doing 
it  with  his  might  ;  but  in  the  watches  of  the  night  he 
brooded  now — not  for  the  first  time — over  the  old 
problem,  "  Was  life  worth  living,  and  if  so,  why?" 
To  that  question  he  was  not  sure  that  he  had  any  an- 
swer to  give.  Perhaps  the  secret  might  lie  in  caring 
for  somebody  very  much,  and  at  present  he  cared  for 
nobody — very  much — so  far  as  he  knew.  Suppose  that 
Navajo  bullet  had  found  its  billet  in  his  brain,  thus  it 
seemed  to  him  in  these  morbid  imaginings  of  the  weary 
night  watch,  he  would  be  sleeping  now  the  last  sleep 
of  all,  like  that  other  victim  in  the  canon  over  yonder  ; 
and  what  was  there  in  that  that  he  should  mind  it  ? 
Perhaps  it  would  have  been  better  so — perhaps,  yes, 
perhaps. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A   WOUNDED   MAN 

WHEN  the  triumphant  cacique  rode  off  with  the 
daughter  he  had  recaptured  on  the  banks  of 
the  Rio  Grande,  he  left  Felipe  stretched  upon  the 
ground,  breathless  from  his  last  desperate  rush  and 
half  stupefied  with  despair.  The  angry  voice  of  the 
cacique  sounded  farther  and  farther  off ;  the  hoof-beats 
of  the  horses  died  away  in  the  distance.  Felipe  lifted 
his  head  from  the  sand  ;  he  was  alone  under  the  wide 
sky  by  the  great  river.  The  monotonous  rush  of  the 
water  seemed  to  intensify  the  stillness  ;  the  sun  blazed 
down  out  of  the  blue  sky;  everything  was  at  peace  ex- 
cept the  despairing,  rebellious  heart  of  the  boy  alone 
in  the  desert.  How  could  everything  go  on  so  quietly 
when  such  a  wicked  thing  had  just  been  done  ?  Why 
did  not  the  cacique's  horse  stumble  and  fall  and  kill 
him  as  he  deserved  ?  Why  was  life  so  full  of  injustice 
and  cruelty  ? 

Poor  Felipe  !  The  first  time  that  it  is  brought  home 
to  us  that  the  scheme  of  events  has  not  been  arranged 
for  our  personal  satisfaction,  nay,  that  it  may  involve 
our  extreme  personal  misery,  is  a  hard  trial — too  hard 
sometimes  for  a  philosopher  ;  how  much  more  so  for  a 
poor,  untaught  Indian  boy. 

"  Cruel,  savage,  barbarous,"  he  groaned,  as  he 
285 


286  Lone  Pine 

thought  of  the  blows  that  had  rained  down  upon  the 
shrinking  form  of  his  sweetheart.  "  Poor  little  thing  ! 
Poor  little  Josefa  !  I  can  do  nothing  for  you  now  ;  I 
had  best  go  and  drown  myself — there  is  nothing  left  to 
live  for." 

He  got  up  and  walked  deliberately  towards  the  river. 

But  before  he  reached  the  brink  he  had  had  time  to 
reflect.  "Nothing  left  to  live  for?"  he  thought. 
"  Yes,  there  is.  I  could  kill  Salvador  first.  I  could 
get  my  father's  gun  and  do  it.  I  don't  care  if  they  do 
hang  me  afterwards. ' ' 

He  knelt  down  on  the  river-bank,  and  bending  his 
head  over  the  water  he  dipped  his  left  hand  in,  and  by 
a  quick  throwing  movement  of  the  wrist  tossed  a  con- 
tinuous stream  of  water  into  his  mouth  in  the  wonder- 
ful Indian  fashion  which  gives  quite  the  effect  of  a  dog 
lapping.  As  he  quenched  his  burning  thirst,  and  felt 
the  cool,  refreshing  dash  of  the  water  against  his  face, 
his  spirit  rose. 

"  I  '11  go  straight  back,"  he  said  to  himself,  with  a 
dangerous  expression  on  his  set  face.  "  I  don't  need 
any  rest.  I  '11  be  there  before  the  sun  's  much  past 
noon,  and  he  '11  be  dead  before  night." 

He  washed  the  blood  from  his  right  arm  and  ex- 
amined the  wound.  The  bullet  had  struck  him  be- 
tween the  elbow  and  shoulder  and  had  passed  out  again 
without  touching  the  bone.  The  second  shot  had 
missed  him.  He  tore  some  strips  from  his  shirt,  and 
bound  it  up  as  well  as  he  could  with  his  left  hand  aided 
by  his  teeth. 

He  drew  his  belt  tighter  to  keep  off  hunger,  and 
drank  again  before  facing  the  long  leagues  of  waterless 
desert  between  him  and  Santiago.  He  looked  at  the 
rolling  river  and  at  the  farther  shore  where  he  had  so 


A  Wounded  Man  287 

longed  to  be.  "  Rio  maldito  !  "  he  cried.  "  Accursed 
stream,  what  happiness  you  have  robbed  me  of !  what 
misery  you  have  wrought  us  !  Why  could  you  not 
wait  onl)'  one  day  longer  ?  ' '  He  turned  away,  set 
his  face  towards  the  pueblo,  and  began  his  weary 
journey. 

He  soon  found  the  weight  of  his  arm  grow  more  and 
more  painful  as  his  pulse  beat  faster  with  movement, 
and  he  had  to  carry  it  across  his  body,  supporting  it 
with  the  other.  But  he  pushed  on  with  a  steady,  un- 
tiring gait,  showing  the  marvellous  power  of  his  race 
to  bear  pain  and  fatigue  and  hunger  and  thirst.  On 
all  the  Western  frontier  there  is  no  white  man  that  is 
not  proud  to  be  credited  with  "  Indian  endurance." 

Curiously  enough,  he  felt  no  fear.  The  cacique's 
threat  to  kill  him  did  not  affect  his  purpose  in  the 
slightest.  He  had  recoiled  from  instant  death  when 
the  pistol  cracked  in  his  face,  but  that  was  only  in- 
stinctive, defenceless  as  he  was  against  a  man  with  fire- 
arms. He  felt  no  shame  at  having  done  so.  It  did  not 
seem  to  him  cowardly  to  avoid  being  killed  if  he  could. 
But  he  did  not  flinch  for  a  moment  when  he  thought 
of  returning  to  the  pueblo.  No  doubt  Salvador  would 
try  to  carry  out  his  threat.  "  Well,"  thought  he,  "I 
must  be  beforehand  with  him.  If  I  can't  hold  my 
father's  gun  with  this  sore  arm,  I  must  get  Tito's 
pistol  ;  Tito  is  my  friend  ;  he  will  not  be  afraid  to  let 
me  have  it." 

The  sun  rose  high  in  the  heavens  and  beat  down 
upon  him  as  he  toiled  along,  parching  him  with  thirst. 
He  was  travelling  the  same  trail  back  to  Santiago  that 
he  had  traversed  the  night  before.  The  tracks  of  the 
horses  going  and  returning  were  plainly  visible.  But 
what  a  change  for  him  !  A  few  hours  before  he  had 


288  Lone  Pine 

ridden  that  way  feeling  every  inch  a  man,  with  his 
sweetheart  in  his  arms  and  the  happiness  of  a  lifetime 
within  his  grasp  ;  and  now —  As  the  thought  stung 
him  he  pulled  himself  together  and  forced  his  weary 
feet  to  carry  him  on  faster. 

But  anger  had  made  him  overestimate  his  own 
powers,  in  declaring  that  he  would  be  back,  and  the 
cacique  dead,  before  night.  His  strength  gave  out, 
and  he  had  to  lie  down  time  and  again  to  recover  force 
enough  to  go  on  at  all.  Night  overtook  him,  and  he 
was  compelled  to  stop  and  light  a  fire  under  the  lee  of 
a  cedar  bush,  and  rest  himself  in  the  warmth  of  it  till 
dawn.  Then  he  set  forward,  once  more,  slowly  and 
stiffly,  but  ever  pressing  onwards,  with  his  face  turned 
towards  the  village  that  was  his  home,  the  village 
where  his  sweetheart  must  now  be  lying  at  the  mercy 
of  her  pitiless  father.  What  might  not  he  have  done 
to  her  ere  this  !  That  torturing  thought  goaded  him 
to  renewed  efforts. 

When  he  reached  the  edge  of  the  mesa  he  was  cross- 
ing, he  looked  down  into  the  sandy  valley  that  sepa- 
rated him  from  the  next  one  ;  and  there  right  below 
him,  coming  at  brisk  pace,  was  a  mounted  Indian.  He 
instantly  crouched  down  to  watch  if  the  new-comer 
were  friend  or  foe  ;  but  in  a  minute  he  sprang  from  his 
concealment.  It  was  Tito, — Tito  on  the  mule  of  the 
American. 

With  a  joyful  cry  he  ran  to  meet  him.  Tito  knew 
him  and  shouted  back  in  welcome.  "  Why,  Felipe  !  " 
he  cried,  "  I  was  looking  for  your  body,  and  here  you 
are  alive.  Jump  up  and  I  '11  take  you  right  back.  But 
3rou  're  wounded,"  he  added,  seeing  his  arm  bound  up. 
"  Is  it  bad  ?  Let  me  help  you  up,"  and  he  jumped  off 
to  help  his  friend  to  mount  to  the  saddle. 


A  Wounded  Man  289 

"  Salvador  gave  me  a  shot,"  answered  Felipe  as  he 
got  on  with  Tito's  help  ;  "  but  it  's  not  very  bad." 

Tito  turned  the  mule's  head  round  towards  Santiago, 
and  jumping  on  behind  struck  out  for  home.  The 
tough  little  mule  made  light  of  the  double  burden,  and 
rejoicing  in  the  prospect  of  going  back  to  his  beloved 
mare  set  off  briskly. 

"  Now  tell  me  all  about  it,"  said  Tito  eagerly. 

"Tell  me  first,"  answered  Felipe,  "where  is  Sal- 
vador ?  What  has  he  done  with  Josefa  ?  ' ' 

"  Salvador  is  made  prisoner  by  the  Americano,"  re- 
plied Tito,  "  for  killing  you.  They  think  you  're  dead 
over  there,  and  they  've  given  Josefa  to  Sooshiuamo, 
hoping  to  keep  him  from  taking  the  cacique  to  Santa 
Fe.  He  asked  for  her."  Felipe's  heart  gave  a  sudden 
bound.  He  knew  of  course  that  there  were  white  men 
in  many  of  the  Indian  tribes  with  half-breed  families, 
but  he  had  never  thought  of  Don  Kstevan  as  that  sort 
of  man. 

' '  Valgame  Dios  /  "  he  cried.  ' '  What  does  he  want 
her  for?" 

"Who  knows?"  replied  Tito  guardedly.  "Per- 
haps he  wants  someone  to  cook  for  him  and  to  take 
care  of  the  house  when  he  is  away.  It  was  he  that 
stopped  the  cacique  from  beating  her." 

"Valgame  Dios!"  said  Felipe  again.  He  hardly 
heard  the  rest  of  Tito's  story.  He  was  filled  with  new 
fears.  Was  everyone  against  him  ?  Was  the  Ameri- 
cano, of  all  men  in  the  world,  to  be  the  one  to  supplant 
him  ?  He  remained  silent  a  while,  but  his  suspicions 
were  too  strong  to  be  entirely  concealed. 

' '  How  did  he  ask  for  her  ?  "  he  inquired.  ' '  Tell  me, 
Tito." 

' '  He  said  the  pueblo  had  agreed  to  give  him  any- 
19 


290  Lone   Pine 

thing  he  wanted  for  blasting  the  rock,"  answered  Tito; 
' '  and  he  said  that  he  wanted  her.  So  Salvador  gave 
her  to  him.  They  all  told  Salvador  to  do  it,  for  they 
thought  then  he  would  n'  t  take  him  to  Santa  Fe.  They 
all  agreed  to  it.  Sooshiuamo  has  put  her  with  Reyna. 
She  's  there  now." 

"  Tito,"  said  Felipe  very  earnestly,  "  will  you  lend 
me  your  pistol  ?  " 

"What  for?"  said  Tito. 

Felipe  hesitated.  Two  conflicting  plans  of  vengeance 
were  struggling  within  him.  Then  he  answered,  ' '  The 
cacique  said  he  'd  kill  me  if  I  came  back.  If  he  has  a 
pistol,  I  ought  to  have  one.  It  was  n't  fair  there  by 
the  river." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Tito  ;  "he  's  not  going  to  kill 
you.  Did  n't  Sooshiuamo  make  him  a  prisoner  because 
he  thought  he  had  ?  Why,  he  was  going  to  take  him 
to  Santa  Fe  to  be  hanged  for  it.  The  cacique  was 
frightened,  I  can  tell  you.  He  won't  touch  you  now, 
Felipe.  Sooshiuamo  won't  let  him." 

"  Oh,  I  'm  sick  of  hearing  of  Sooshiuamo, "  broke  in 
Felipe  impatiently.  "  Why  won't  you  lend  it  to  me, 
Tito?  You  used  to." 

' '  That  was  to  go  after  wild  cows, ' '  said  Tito.  ' '  Now 
I  don't  know  what  you  want." 

"  I  want  to  defend  myself,"  said  Felipe  in  a  hurt 
tone. 

"  But  there  's  no  need  to,"  said  Tito.  "  Never 
mind  what  Salvador  said.  He  was  angry  then.  He 
is  frightened  now.  Don't  you  mind  him.  It  '11  be  all 
right.  I  'm  taking  you  straight  back  to  Sooshiuamo, 
just  as  he  told  me.  He  '11  manage  it." 

It  was  easy  to  see  who  was  Tito's  hero  now. 

They  came  to  the  edge  of  the  last  mesa  and  looked 


A  Wounded  Man  291 

down  upon  the  Santiago  Valley.  Tito  jumped  off  to 
ease  the  mule,  who  cleverly  picked  his  way  down  the 
steep,  rocky  escarpment.  At  the  bottom  he  sprang  on 
again,  and  they  cantered  in  the  last  league  over  the 
lowlands. 

Felipe  resigned  himself  to  fate.  "  If  he  wrongs  her, 
I  '11  have  his  heart's  blood,"  he  thought,  but  the 
imaginary  "  he  "  was  not  the  cacique. 

Thej^  reached  the  corrals,  and  they  heard  the  cry 
raised  of  "  Tito  's  coming  !  Tito  's  here  !  "  They 
pushed  on  through  the  crowd  to  the  American's  house, 
and  Tito,  proud  of  his  success,  sprang  off  before  the  door. 

"  See,  Sooshiuamo,  I  have  brought  him,"  he  shouted 
out  joyfully,  thinking  he  was  there,  as  he  aided  his 
friend  to  dismount.  ' '  Here 's  Felipe.  He 's  not  dead, 
but  he  has  a  bullet  wound. ' ' 

He  pulled  the  latch-string,  but  the  door  refused  to 
open.  It  was  locked. 

' '  I  reckon  you  must  shout  a  bit  louder  if  you  want 
Mr.  Sooshiuamo,  as  you  fellers  call  him,"  remarked  a 
man  who  lounged  against  the  wall  near  Reyna's  door, 
which  was  only  a  few  yards  from  Stephens's.  "  He 
aint  to  home  just  now." 

"  Why,  where  is  he  ?  "  cried  the  boys  in  concert. 

"  Gone  off  with  the  cacique,"  answered  Backus,  for 
it  was  he  ;  "  mebbe  he  thought  change  of  air  would  be 
wholesome  after  all  that  rumpus  they  're  bin  having 
this  morning  " ;  he  laughed  an  evil  laugh. 

"  Oh,"  cried  Tito,  "  I  suppose  he  's  done  as  he  said 
he  would,  taken  him  to  Santa  Fe  for  killing  Felipe. 
But  why  could  n't  he  wait  a  little  ?  Here  I '  ve  brought 
him  back  Felipe  no  more  dead  than  I  am." 

"  No,  nor  he  aint  taken  him  to  Santa  Fe,  neither," 
rejoined  the  Texan,  with  a  malicious  pleasure  in  mysti- 


292  Lone   Pine 

fying  the  boys.  He  had  gone  straight  to  the  cacique's 
house  in  his  dripping  garments  after  his  fall  into  the 
ditch,  and  had  waited  there,  meditating  revenge,  while 
they  were  being  dried  for  him,  during  which  interval 
he  had  obtained  a  full  account  of  all  that  had  taken 
place,  including  the  fact  that  Josefa  had  been  trans- 
ferred to  the  prospector  and  was  now  under  his  pro- 
tection at  Reyna's.  He  had  just  walked  over  to 
Reyna's,  in  the  hope  of  interviewing  the  girl,  when  the 
mule  with  the  two  boys  on  his  back  came  in  sight. 

"  All  that  gas  of  his  about  Santa  Fe  was  nothing  but 
a  blind,"  he  went  on  ;  "  what  he  wanted  was  to  get 
Miss  Josefa  for  himself.  And  he  's  done  it,  too."  He 
noted  the  flash  in  Felipe's  eyes  as  he  said  this.  "  Yes, 
he  's  got  her  bottled  up  tight,  inside  here."  He 
jerked  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder  to  indicate  the 
house  against  which  he  was  leaning. 

"  But  that  's  only  to  save  her  from  her  father,"  ex- 
claimed Tito  hotly.  "  He  was  thrashing  her  like  fury, 
and  Sooshiuamo  stopped  him  and  took  her  away  from 
him."  Tito  did  not  feel  quite  sure  himself  what  Ste- 
phens's  ultimate  object  might  have  been, — Americans 
were  such  very  unaccountable  people  anyhow, — but  he 
was  not  going  to  have  this  other  American  saying 
things  about  the  man  who  was  his  particular  hero  at 
the  moment,  without  sticking  up  for  him. 

"  Jes'  so,"  rejoined  the  Texan,  "  he  's  got  her  away 
from  her  daddy,  and  he  's  got  her  for  himself.  That 's 
the  size  of  it  exactly. ' ' 

Felipe  said  nothing,  but  the  rage  and  despair  which 
had  taken  possession  of  his  heart  made  him  perfectly 
convinced  that  the  base  innuendo  of  the  Texan  was 
only  the  simple  truth.  Tito  made  another  effort  to 
withstand  the  sinister  meaning  of  the  words. 


A  Wounded  Man  293 

"  But  he  has  n't  taken  her  to  live  with  him,"  he 
said.  "  She  's  not  in  his  house  ;  it  's  locked  up." 

"Yes,"  said  Backus,  "for  a  very  good  reason. 
He  's  gone  off  hunting  Navajos,  and  he  's  too  jealous 
of  her  to  leave  her  there  by  herself.  So  he  's  stowed 
her  away,  nice  and  handy,  with  his  most  particular 
friend  next  door.  See  ?  Why,  it  's  as  clear  as  mud." 

"  What  's  he  gone  hunting  Navajos  for,  though?  " 
asked  the  puzzled  young  Indian. 

"  What,  don't  you  know  ?  "  said  the  Texan.  "  Oh, 
I  suppose  the  news  came  after  you  'd  started.  Well, 
there  's  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish.  The  Navajos  have 
bagged  Miss  Sanchez,  and  run  her  off  Lord  knows 
where,  and  Mr.  Sooshiuamo,  instead  of  taking  his 
newly  made  father-in-law  off  to  jail,  is  using  him  as  a 
smell-dog  to  run  their  trail.  He  and  Miss  Josefa's 
daddy  are  as  thick  as  thieves  now.  Aint  it  so,  what 
I  've  said?"  and  he  appealed  to  the  other  Indians 
standing  round  for  confirmation. 

The  incredulous  Tito  appealed  to  them,  too  ;  but  the 
Texan  had  stated  the  fact  correctly  enough  ;  and  as  for 
the  interpretation  he  put  on  them,  well,  that  was  a 
matter  where  everyone  must  judge  for  himselt.  Opin- 
ions varied  as  to  that,  but  the  general  verdict  was  in 
Backus' s  favour. 

Felipe  threw  up  his  unwounded  arm  in  adjuration. 
"  If  he  takes  her  from  me, ' '  he  cried,  ' '  my  curse  upon 
him  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart." 

"  You  seem  to  take  it  hard,  young  man,"  said 
Backus  eyeing  him  keenly.  "  Say,  though,  you  're 
looking  rather  dilapidated.  What  's  wrong  with  you 
anyway  ?  ' ' 

"  He  's  got  a  bullet  in  his  arm,"  answered  Tito  for 
him. 


294  Lone  Pine 

"  Then  why  the  mischief  could  n't  you  say  so  before, 
you  plumb  idiot?"  exclaimed  the  Texan,  who  in- 
stantly divined  that  here  was  a  chance  to  make  friends 
with  the  youth  who  would  now  and  henceforward  be 
Stephens's  bitterest  enemy.  "  Come  in  here,  young 
'un,  and  let  me  look  at  it,"  he  said,  addressing  Felipe  ; 
"  it 's  a  pity  if  I  don't  know  a  thing  or  two  about  gun- 
shot wounds."  He  knocked  at  Reyna's  door,  and 
when  she  appeared  he  said  apologetically,  "  Won't  you 
let  me  bring  in  a  wounded  man  who  wants  seeing  to  ?  " 

Reyna  did  not  want  either  him  or  Felipe,  seeing  that 
she  had  already  one  invalid  in  the  house,  in  the  shape 
of  Josefa,  whom  she  was  nursing  in  an  inner  room,  and 
she  particularly  objected  to  any  complications  with 
Felipe  in  Stephens's  absence.  But  to  be  hospitable  is 
a  cardinal  virtue  of  the  race,  and  she  admitted  them  in 
spite  of  the  difficulties  she  felt.  After  all,  Josefa  was 
safely  stowed  away  out  of  sight  and  hearing. 

The  Texan  placed  the  boy  on  the  ground  close  to 
the  light,  and  with  the  rude  skill  of  the  frontier  undid 
the  makeshift  bandage.  The  wound  was  naturally 
somewhat  inflamed  ;  he  cleansed  it  with  water  and 
clean  rags  supplied  by  Reyna,  and  did  it  up  again  for 
the  patient.  "  There  aint  no  bullet  in  that,"  he  said, 
"  or  I  'm  a  Dutchman.  But  you  're  liable  to  have  an 
ugly  arm,  if  you  don't  look  after  it  properly.  Now 
you  listen  to  me.  You  go  right  home  to  your  mammy, 
and  have  a  bite  to  eat,  and  lie  down  and  keep  quiet. 
Keep  plumb  still,  d'  you  mark  me,  and  don't  go  talking. 
Rest 's  what  you  're  wanting  this  minute.  But  I  can't 
dress  your  wound  properly  here,  for  I  have  n't  the  right 
stuff  with  me.  I  've  got  some  rare  good  stuff  at  the 
store,  though,  that  works  like  a  charm.  Now,  you 
come  down  to  me  there,  this  evening  when  you  're 


A  Wounded  Man  295 

rested,  and  I  '11  fix  it  for  you  good.  You  do  jes'  as  I 
tell  you,  and  I  '11  make  a  well  man  of  you  yet. 
Sabe  ?  ' '  He  helped  the  boy  to  his  feet  and  led  him  to 
the  door. 

"  But  I  want. to  see  Josefa,"  said  the  boy,  addressing 
Reyna;  "  I  've  got  something  to  say  to  her.  Where  is 
she?" 

"  You  'd  better  go  right  along  and  lie  down,"  said 
Backus,  disregarding  the  interruption  ;  "  you  aint  fit 
to  talk  to  her  now,  nor  she  aint  fit  to  talk  to  you." 

"  Let  me  see  her,"  cried  the  boy  passionately.  "  I 
must." 

"  Hush  !  "  said  the  old  squaw  severely,  "  she  's 
asleep.  You  '11  disturb  her.  Do  what  the  kind  gentle- 
man says,  and  go  home. ' ' 

Backus  had  said  not  a  word  to  a  soul  as  to  his  fracas 
with  Stephens,  nor  had  it  been  observed  by  any  of  the 
Pueblo  people,  so  that  Reyna  had  no  idea  of  his  hostility 
to  Stephens,  to  whom  she  was  devoted.  Had  she  known 
of  it  she  would  not  have  called  him  "  kind  gentleman," 
nor  even  let  him  inside  her  door.  Now,  however,  she 
backed  him  in  starting  Felipe  for  home  under  Tito's 
charge,  the  Texan  reiterating  his  injunctions  to  keep 
quiet  when  he  got  there.  Then  he  turned  quickly  to 
the  mistress  of  the  house.  "  And  how  's  the  other  in- 
valid getting  on  ?  How  's  the  new  Mrs.  Stephens  ?  " 

"  She  does  very  well,  now,"  said  the  squaw  cau- 
tiously. 

"  Don't  you  think  I  'd  better  prescribe  for  her?  " 
asked  the  Texan  ;  "  I  'm  a  boss  doctor,  me,  for  wounds 
and  bruises";  in  saying  which  he  did  but  speak  the 
truth.  "  Come  on,  let  's  have  a  look  at  her." 

"  She  's  resting  now,"  said  the  squaw.  "  Better  she 
try  to  go  to  sleep. ' ' 


296  Lone   Pine 

"  Oh,  pshaw  !  "  said  the  storekeeper;  "  it  '11  do  her 
all  the  good  in  the  world  to  see  me.  Come  along,  old 
lady,  trot  her  out." 

But  though  Mr.  Backus  had  had  reason  for  his  boast 
when  he  declared  that  he  had  had  a  good  deal  of  ex- 
perience of  Indians,  and  that  too  of  different  sorts,  he 
found  now  that  he  knew  precious  little  of  Pueblo  In- 
dians, and  next  to  nothing  of  the  nature  of  the  Pueblo 
squaw.  This  stout,  jolly,  comfortable-looking  old  lady 
(not  so  very  old,  either),  whom  he  had  imagined  he 
could  order  about  by  virtue  of  his  position  as  one  of  the 
superior  sex  as  well  as  of  the  superior  race,  proved  to 
have  a  decided  will  of  her  own.  It  was  her  house  he 
was  in,  her  very  own,  and,  what  was  more,  she  was 
mistress  in  it,  and  did  not  for  one  moment  mean  to 
abdicate.  She  had  no  notion  of  being  told  to  do  this 
or  that  by  anybody  so  long  as  she  was  inside  her  own 
door,  and  this  she  let  him  know.  She  was  a  woman 
of  the  Turquoise  clan,  and  the  Turquoise  women  owned 
that  block  of  buildings,  and  their  motto  was,  "  What  's 
mine  's  my  own." 

The  astonished  storekeeper  found  he  had  to  swallow 
the  fact  that  Josefa  was  invisible  to  him  for  the  present, 
and  he  was  sharp  enough  to  see  that  it  would  do  him 
not  the  slightest  good  to  bluster.  So  he  kept  a  civil 
tongue  in  his  head,  thanked  Reyna  profusely  for  allow- 
ing him  to  dress  Felipe's  wound  in  her  house,  and 
.promised  to  call  again  soon.  Then  he  went  off  to  the 
cacique's  stable  and  got  his  own  horse,  which  was  wait- 
ing for  him  there,  and  rode  slowly  home  revolving 
fresh  schemes  of  revenge. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

A  PICNIC  PARTY 

THE  discovery  of  Felipe  seemed  quite  a  godsend  to 
Backus  as  he  wended  his  way  through  the  Indian 
lands  back  to  San  Remo.  Had  he  had  a  pistol  on  him 
when  Stephens  struck  him  that  morning  he  would  have 
shot  him,  or  tried  to  shoot  him,  then  and  there.  But 
now  that  his  fit  of  passion  had  gone  by,  he  determined 
to  pay  the  prospector  out  in  his  own  way  and  at  his 
own  time.  Looking  at  the  matter  in  cooler  blood  he 
could  see  that  he  would  let  himself  in  for  a  lot  of  trouble 
if  he  killed  Stephens  with  his  own  hand.  In  the  first 
place,  there  would  be  a  trial,  and  lawyers  to  be  paid, 
and  that  would  come  expensive,  very  expensive  ;  and, 
secondly,  Stephens  had  friends  capable  of  going  on 
the  war-path.  These  confounded  redskin  allies  of  his 
seemed  so  unaccountably  devoted  to  him  that  they  might 
take  it  into  their  heads  to  perforate  anyone  who  harmed 
him  in  a  highly  unpleasant  manner,  to  judge  not  only 
by  Tito's  talk,  but  by  the  action  of  this  stubborn  old 
squaw,  who  had  flatly  told  him  at  last  that  he  should  n't 
even  set  eyes  on  Stephens' s  girl  in  his  absence.  And 
now  here  was  just  what  he  wanted,  an  instrument  pre- 
pared to  his  hand.  With  a  little  judicious  spurring,  a 
little  help  on  the  sly,  Felipe  would  be  quite  ready  to 
stick  a  knife  in  Stephens's  back  some  night,  or  blow 

297 


298  Lone  Pine 

the  top  of  his  head  off,  and  he,  Backus,  would  stand 
entirely  clear — ay,  need  not  even  lose  the  trade  of  the 
pueblo.  Really  it  seemed  quite  providential.  The 
only  question  that  occurred  to  him  was,  whether  Felipe 
would  come  down  to  see  him,  which  would  be  most 
convenient,  or  whether  he  would  have  to  go  back  to 
the  pueblo  to  hunt  for  him.  "  But  there  's  small  fear 
of  that,"  said  he,  as  his  horse  splashed  through  the 
Santiago  River  before  entering  San  Remo  ;  "  that  sore 
arm  of  his  '11  bring  him  along,  if  not  to-night,  then  to- 
morrow, certain." 

Mr.  Backus  was  exceedingly  accurate  in  his  diagnosis 
of  Felipe's  frame  of  mind,  as  well  as  of  the  condition  of 
his  arm.  The  young  Indian  obeyed  him  implicitly  in 
the  matter  of  going  home,  taking  food,  and  lying  down 
to  obtain  a  good  rest.  He  rose  again  later  in  the  after- 
noon, and  went  for  the  second  time  to  Reyna's  house, 
only  to  find  that  for  him  there  was  to  be  no  admission. 
Reyna  was  perfectly  clear  that  until  Stephens  came 
back  and  settled  what  was  to  be  done,  the  less  the 
young  people  saw  of  each  other  the  better  it  would  be 
for  all  concerned.  She  was  very  friendly,  rather  amus- 
ing, and  perfectly  inexorable.  As  to  the  health  of  her 
patient,  all  Felipe  could  learn  was  that  she  was  getting 
along  nicely,  thank  you,  and  was  in  absolute  need  of 
rest,  and  would  be  so  for  a  day  or  two  longer, — until 
Stephens  came  back  in  fact.  At  present  she  would  not 
even  go  out  of  doors. 

All  which  did  but  root  more  firmly  in  Felipe's 
mind  the  conviction  that  Josefa  was  destined  for  Ste- 
phens, and  that  this  was  why  the  door  was  barred 
against  him.  Nursing  his  wrath,  he  turned  away  to 
meet  Tito.  For  the  second  time  he  tried  to  borrow 


A  Picnic   Party  299 

Tito's  pistol,  which  that  discreet  young  man  entirely 
declined  to  let  him  have  so  long  as  he  continued  in  his 
present  frame  of  mind. 

'  You  can't  want  it  to  defend  yourself,  Felipe,"  he 
said  very  decidedly,  "  for  the  cacique  is  n't  here." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  boy  sullenly,  "  but  he  '11  be  back  in 
two  or  three  days,  and  I  'in  not  going  to  have  him 
shooting  at  me  again,  and  I  not  have  anything  to  shoot 
back  with."  . 

' '  Pooh  ! ' '  said  Tito,  "  don't  you  fret  yourself.  He 's 
not  going  to  bother  you  any  more,  you  may  be  sure. 
Take  it  easy;  that  's  all  past  and' gone." 

But  Felipe  declined  to  take  it  easy.  Finding  Tito's 
mind  was  quite  made  up,  he  went  back  to  his  mother's 
house,  and  announced  his  intention  of  going  down  to 
San  Remo  to  get  his  arm  dressed  by  the  storekeeper. 
He  took  his  blanket  with  him,  and  added,  as  he 
started,  that  if  Backus  would  let  him  sleep  down  there, 
he  was  n't  coming  back  till  the  morrow,  or  even  later. 
He  reached  the  store  at  dark,  and  found  Mr.  Backus  at 
home. 

"  Come  right  in,"  said  the  Texan,  as  the  boy  with 
his  blanket  wrapped  round  him  appeared  in  the  door- 
way of  the  house  after  knocking,  "  come  right  in  and 
set  down.  I  was  expecting  you."  He  placed  him  in 
the  light  of  a  kerosene  lamp,  undid  the  arm,  and  dressed 
the  wound  again  with  some  stinging  stuff  out  of  a  bottle 
that  made  it  smart.  But  the  sharp  throb  of  the  wound 
gave  no  such  stab  to  Felipe  as  the  inquiry,  casually 
dropped,  "  Wai',  have  you  called  on  Mrs.  Stephens  to 
pay  your  respects  yet  ?  ' ' 

The  boy  confessed  his  vain  attempt. 

"  Hah  !  "  said  the  Texan,  "  so  they  're  keeping  her 
locked  up  tight,  eh  ?  Well,  well  ;  that 's  rather  tough 


3OO  Lone  Pine 

on  you.  But  I  don't  wonder  at  it,  now  that  Mr.  Ste- 
phens and  the  cacique  are  in  cahoots  together.  Of 
course  they  don't  want  anybody  smelling  around  there 
when  they  are  off  and  out  of  the  way.  No,  they  've 
got  her  there  and  they  mean  to  keep  her.  But  I  know 
what  I  'd  do  if  a  man  stole  my  gal  away  from  me  and 
shut  her  up. ' ' 

"What  would  you  do?"  inquired  Felipe,  with 
averted  eyes.  He  had  his  head  turned -to  one  side, 
and  was  looking  down  at  the  hole  in  his  arm  which 
Backus  was  dressing. 

"  Me  !  "  said  Backus,  "  I  'd  fill  the  hound's  hide  so 
full  of  holes  that  it  would  n't  hold  shucks.  That  's 
what  I  'd  do.  And  I  'd  lay  for  him,  too,  and  get  him 
when  he  was  n't  expecting  it.  A  man  like  that,  as 
would  steal  another  man's  gal  away  from  him,  don't 
deserve  any  more  show  than  a  mad  dog. ' ' 

"  I  have  n't  got  a  pistol," — Felipe's  voice  trembled 
a  little  as  he  said  this, — "  but  I  could  buy  one,  per- 
haps, if  it  was  n't  too  dear,  if  I  knew  of  one  for  sale." 

"  A  knife  's  surer  than  a  pistol,"  said  the  Texan 
cautiously  ;  "  though  I  allow  a  feller  that  's  only  got 
his  left  arm  to  use  is  rather  at  a  disadvantage  with  a 
knife.  So  he  is  with  a  pistol,  unless  he  practises 
shooting  left-handed.  However,  if  he  gets  up  close, 
and  takes  his  man  from  behind  when  he  aint  looking 
out  for  it,  he  can't  hardly  miss,  and  he  had  n't  ought 
to  need  a  second  shot." 

"  Do  you  know  of  anyone  that  's  got  a  pistol  for 
sale  ?  ' '  said  the  boy  earnestly. 

"  Wai',  yes,"  said  the  Texan,  "  I  do  happen  to 
know  of  a  very  good  pistol  that  's  for  sale.  In  fact,  a 
man  left  it  with  me  to  be  disposed  of."  Mr.  Backus 
did  not  deal  in  firearms,  but  second-hand  ones  some- 


A  Picnic  Party  301 

times  came  in  his  way  as  part  payment  of  a  debt.  ' '  I 
could  sell  it  for  him,  and  afford  to  take  a  very  reason- 
able price  for  it.  It  's  a  first-class  weapon."  He 
finished  tying  up  the  wounded  arm,  and  released  his 
patient. 

' '  Thank  you,  seiior,  a  thousand  thanks  for  all 
your  kindness,"  said  Felipe,  rising.  "  May  I  see  the 
pistol  ?  " 

The  storekeeper  took  a  key  from  his  pocket,  unlocked 
a  chest,  and  produced  a  heavy,  old-fashioned,  muzzle- 
loading  Colt's  revolver  in  a  leather  holster.  He  drew 
it  out ;  it  was  well  smeared  with  grease.  He  pulled 
the  hammer  to  half-cock,  and  spun  the  cylinder  round, 
click,  click,  click,  with  his  finger. 

"  She  's  not  new,"  he  remarked;  "  but  she  goes  like 
clockwork,  and  she  '11  throw  a  conical  ball  through  four 
inches  of  pine  wood.  I  '  ve  tried  her  at  a  mark,  too,  and 
she  '11  hit  the  size  of  a  silver  dollar  at  ten  yards  every 
pop,  if  you  're  man  enough  to  hold  her  steady."  He 
handed  it  over  to  Felipe,  who  examined  it  with  great 
care.  Though  he  had  never  owned  a  weapon  of  his 
own,  he  knew  how  to  handle  one.  They  did  not  read 
or  write  in  the  pueblo,  but  they  had  compulsory  educa- 
tion for  all  that  ;  every  boy  learned  two  necessary 
things,  the  use  of  weapons  and  the  use  of  tools.  And 
they  never  required  any  salaried  attendance  officer  to 
drive  them  to  school.  The  boy  drew  back  the  hammer 
with  his  left  thumb,  holding  the  barrel  with  his  stiff 
right  hand,  and  squinted  down  the  sights. 

'  That  's  right,"  said  Backus  approvingly,  "  I  see 
you  know  all  about  it.  Now  that  pistol  cost  fifteen 
dollars  new,  and  I  can  sell  it  to  you  for  four  dollars  and 
a  half,  and  there  's  a  little  ammunition  that  goes  with 
it,  thrown  in.  It  's  as  good  as  new,  too  ;  these  Colt's 


3O2  Lone  Pine 

pistols  never  wear  out,  but  they  've  got  a  new  style 
now  with  copper  cartridges,  and  that  's  why  these  old- 
fashioned  ones  are  cheap."  It  was  all  quite  true.  Mr. 
Backus  loved  truth,  it  got  you  such  a  useful  reputa- 
tion ;  he  never  lied  except  when  he  thought  it  would 
pay  him,  and  then  he  could  lie  like  a  gas-meter. 

Felipe  produced  the  cash,  and  slipped  his  belt  through 
the  loop  of  the  holster.  He  felt  himself  more  a  man 
now  ;  from  this  time  forward  he  would  go  "  heeled." 

' '  No  use  your  going  back  all  that  way  to  the  pueblo, ' ' 
said  the  storekeeper,  "  and  it  won't  do  your  arm  any 
good.  I  can  let  you  sleep  here  in  an  outhouse,  and 
I  've  lots  of  sheepskins  I  've  traded  for  that  you  can 
spread  down  for  a  bed."  The  Indians  despise  soft 
mattresses,  but  love  to  lie  on  skins. 

For  the  next  three  days  Felipe  was  Back  us' s  guest. 
His  wounded  arm  made  rapid  progress  towards  re- 
covery, and  the  boy  spent  his  days  either  squatting  in 
the  store  with  his  blanket  drawn  round  him,  silently 
noting  all  that  went  on,  or  in  lounging  round  the 
corral,  looking  after  Backus's  horse  and  practising 
aiming  at  a  mark  with  his  new  toy.  He  could  not 
afford  to  waste  his  ammunition,  but  Backus  showed  him 
how  to  put  on  old  caps  to  save  the  tubes  from  the  blow 
of  the  hammer,  and  by  snapping  it  thus  he  acquired  a 
useful  familiarity  with  his  weapon. 

For  three  days  no  tiding  came  to  San  Remo  of 
Manuelita  and  her  captors,  or  of  their  pursuers.  But 
on  the  fourth  morning  two  young  Mexicans  came  spur- 
ring in  from  the  westward,  and  reined  up  their  weary 
horses  before  one  of  the  San  Remo  corrals.  They  were 
soon  surrounded  by  eager  questioners,  boys  and  women 
mostly,  and  the  storekeeper  and  Felipe  were  not  long 


A  Picnic  Party  303 

in  joining  the  throng.  The  young  men  felt  their  own 
importance,  and  dealt  out  their  information  gradually. 
No,  there  had  been  nothing  to  call  a  fight,  and  no  one 
was  hurt,  though  there  had  been  some  shots  fired. 
Yes,  the  Senorita  Manuelita  Sanchez  was  all  right. 
She  and  the  Americano,  Don  Estevan,  and  the  Nava- 
jos  were  all  coming  home  together  in  one  party  ;  and 
Don  Nepomuceno  and  Don  Andres  with  the  rest  of  the 
Mexicans  were  also  coming  home  together,  but  by  a 
different  route,  and  along  with  them  were  the  Santiago 
trailers.  The  various  incidents  of  the  expedition, — of 
the  loss  of  the  trail  and  of  the  finding  it  again,  of  the 
renewed  pursuit  almost  to  the  verge  of  the  Lava  Beds, 
and  of  the  meeting  there  between  the  party  of  Mexi- 
cans and  the  returning  Santiago  trailers,  who  an- 
nounced to  them  that  Stephens,  with  Manuelita  and 
the  Navajos,  were  already  on  their  way  back  to  San 
Remo, — all  these  things  had  to  be  related  at  length  and 
with  impressive  detail.  And  then,  their  horses  un- 
saddled and  attended  to,  these  young  men,  who  had 
been  riding  a  good  part  of  the  night,  slipped  away  to 
contrive  an  interview  with  their  sweethearts,  to  get 
quickly  back  to  whom  they  had  ridden  far  and  fast. 
The  young  men  of  San  Remo  were  neither  laggards  in 
love  nor  dastards  in  war. 

"  I  think,  mebbe,  if  I  was  you,"  said  Backus  to  the 
young  Indian,  "I'd  contrive  not  to  be  here  just  when 
they  arrive,  but  go  off  somewheres  and  keep  out  of  the 
way.  If  you  have  a  notion  in  your  head  to  do  any- 
thing, better  not  let  folks  see  you,  as  it  were,  waiting 
for  anyone — you  understand  ?  ' ' 

Felipe  understood  perfectly.  In  the  past  three  days 
he  and  Backus  had  come  to  understand  one  another 
only  too  well  ;  there  was  no  formal  conspiracy  between 


304  Lone  Pine 

them  ;  Backus  was  much  too  cautious  to  give  himself 
entirely  away  to  any  confederate,  more  especially  to  one 
so  green  and  inexperienced  as  this  Indian  boy,  but  each 
was  perfectly  aware  of  the  other's  feelings  towards  the 
prospector. 

"  Why  should  n't  you  jes'  go  back  to  your  folks  for 
the  rest  of  the.  day,"  continued  Backus,  "  and  let  'em 
know  how  you  're  getting  on  ?  Likely  enough  the  ca- 
cique and  his  son-in-law"  (he  always  alluded  to  Ste- 
phens now  as  the  cacique's  son-in-law)  "  will  be  going 
on  up  there  too,  and  you  might  chance  to  hear  some- 
thing interesting  if  you  lie  low.  You  can  come  back 
down  here  again  after  dark  if  you  like,  and  I  '11  do  up 
your  arm  for  you  as  usual." 

Felipe  took  the  hint,  and  was  off  at  once.  The  rest 
and  good  food,  for  Backus  treated  him  extremely  well 
— it  was  part  of  his  game — had  quite  restored  his 
strength,  and  except  for  having  to  carry  his  right  arm 
in  a  sling  he  felt  fit  for  anything. 

Later  on  in  the  morning  arrived  the  main  party  of 
Mexicans,  headed  by  Don  Nepomuceno  and  his  son. 
They  dispersed  to  their  different  houses  to  dispose  of 
their  horses  and  be  welcomed  back  by  their  families, 
but  they  did  not  lay  aside  their  arms,  and  it  was  not 
very  long  before  they  reassembled  at  the  Sanchez 
house  in  expectation  of  the  arrival  of  the  other  party. 
The  cacique  and  his  three  fellow-tribesmen  of  Santiago 
preferred  not  to  await  the  return  of  the  Navajos,  but 
pushed  on  at  once  for  their  own  pueblo. 

But,  for  the  waiting  Mexicans,  hour  after  hour  passed 
and  no  sign  of  the  Navajos  or  of  Manuelita  and  Ste- 
phens appeared.  The  sun  climbed  high  in  the  heavens 
and  sank  slowly  to  the  west,  and  still  their  coming  was 
delayed.  True,  their  exact  route  was  not  known,  but 


A  Picnic  Party  305 

it  was  guessed  (and  correctly  guessed)  that  it  was  the 
short  cut  through  the  sierra,  and  if  so  it  was  calculated 
that  they  should  have  arrived  long  before  noon.  The 
anxiety  became  painful.  All  sorts  of  theories  to  ac- 
count for  the  delay  were  started.  There  had  been  a 
quarrel  between  Stephens  and  the  Navajos  ;  they  had 
killed  him  and  Manuelita,  or  had  at  least  made  them 
captives  and  carried  them  farther  into  the  wilderness 
to  a  securer  hiding-place.  Or  Stephens  and  Manuelita 
had  made  their  escape  from  them  during  the  night,  and 
were  now  in  hiding  in  the  sierra,  besieged  there,  per- 
chance in  some  cave,  and  defended  by  the  deadly  rifle 
of  the  American.  Many  possible  explanations  were 
discussed,  and  many  tales  of  Navajo  treachery  recalled 
to  mind;  but  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  except  wait. 

Yet  the  cause  of  the  delay  was  perfectly  simple,  and 
the  result  of  the  merest  accident.  When  daylight  came, 
and  the  sleeping  band  of  Navajos  awoke  to  find  that 
four  of  their  horses  had  strayed  off,  the  owners  im- 
mediately started  on  their  trail  to  recover  them,  and 
till  they  returned  Mahletonkwa  declined  to  budge.  He 
absolutely  refused  to  divide  his  party,  or  to  allow  the 
American  and  the  girl  to  proceed  alone.  Under  the 
circumstances  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  wait, 
and  Stephens  determined  to  make  the  best  of  it.  Hardy 
as  he  was,  he  could  not  but  feel  the  strain  of  the  efforts 
he  had  been  making,  followed  as  they  were  by  a  whole 
night  on  guard.  He  now  left  Manuelita  to  tend  the 
fire  and  keep  a  daylight  watch  ;  he  threw  himself  on 
the  ground,  wrapped  in  his  blanket,  under  the  shade 
of  a  bush,  drew  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  and  in  two 
minutes  was  fast  asleep. 

It  was  well  into  the  afternoon  when  the  four  Nava- 
jos rode  bareback  into  camp  with  their  truant  steeds 


306  Lone  Pine 

that  had  caused  all  this  delay.  Manuelita  saw  them 
arrive,  and  was  glad  to  think  that  the  hour  for  their 
final  departure  had  come  ;  once  more  she  looked  across 
where  Stephens  was  still  sleeping,  and  seeing  that  the 
babbling  talk  of  the  Indians,  who  were  already  sad- 
dling up,  did  not  rouse  him,  she  went  over  to  where  he 
lay  and  laid  her  hand  lightly  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Oh,  Don  Estevan,"  she  said  in  her  softest  voice; 
but  it  was  as  if  she  had  unwittingly  touched  the  trigger 
of  a  gun.  She  was  startled  at  the  suddenness  with 
which  he  bounded  to  his  feet,  broad  awake,  rifle  in 
hand,  the  ominous  click-clack  of  the  lever  sounding 
loud  as  he  instinctively  threw  in  a  cartridge  from  the 
magazine  ;  his  flashing  eyes  darted  one  swift  glance 
around,  and  then  in  an  instant  he  recognised  that  there 
was  no  need  for  disquiet. 

"  Pshaw  !  "  he  said  in  half- apology,  "  I  guess  I  was 
dreaming.  Sorry  if  I  startled  you,  sefiorita.  I  sup- 
pose I  'm  on  my  nerve  a  bit  with  all  this  trouble 
there  's  been."  He  looked  at  the  sun.  "  By  George  ! 
but  it 's  afternoon  already,  and  I  thought  I  'd  just  lain 
down  for  a  five-minutes'  nap.  That  over  there  means 
the  Navajos  have  come  in  with  the  lost  horses,  I  sup- 
pose ?  "  He  indicated  the  busy  folk  a  little  way  off, 
where  preparations  for  the  start  were  going  on. 

'  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  they  have  but  just  arrived 
with  them.     That  was  why  I  ventured  to  call  you." 

' '  They  must  have  had  the  dickens  of  a  chase  after 
them  ;  those  Indian  ponies  are  beggars  to  stray,"  he 
remarked,  carefully  working  the  lever  so  as  to  extract 
the  cartridge  from  the  chamber.  "  And  there  's  no- 
thing happened,  sefiorita,  whilst  I  was  asleep  ?  All  's 
quiet  along  the  Potomac,  eh  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered,  "  nothing  has  happened.     I 


A   Picnic  Party  307 

think  the  Indians  have  been  rather  suspicious  that 
they  might  be  attacked  ;  they  've  most  of  them  been 
out  in  the  brush  all  morning  on  the  watch." 

"  And  you  've  been  on  watch  here  by  the  camp-fire," 
he  said,  "  and  I  've  been  sleeping  there  like  a  log  when 
I  might  have  been  talking  to  you  " ;  he  looked  in  her 
eyes  with  a  smile  as  he  rallied  himself  for  his  lack  of 
gallantry.  "  And  you  've  made  yourself  smart  for  the 
home-coming,  I  see.  That 's  right,  senorita.  You  're 
not  going  to  play  the  poor  captive,  not  by  no  manner 
of  means.  We  've  just  been  out  for  a  cheerful  picnic 
party,  we  have,  like  those  high-toned  tenderfoot  outfits 
that  come  out  from  the  East  and  go  to  camping  out  in 
South  Park  with  an  escort  of  Utes  to  do  them  honour. 
Well,  well  ;  the  pleasantest  picnics  have  got  to  come 
to  an  end  some  time,  and  I  see  our  escort  under  Mr. 
Mahletonkwa  are  really  thinking  of  starting.  I  'd 
better  go  and  catch  up  Morgana,  and  then  we  '11  have 
you  home  in  three  hours.  How  's  that  for  high  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

WEIGHING  THE  SILVER 

TWILIGHT  was  falling  as  the  armed  band  of  Mexi- 
cans who  had  waited  since  noon  around  Don 
Nepomuceno's  house  saw  through  the  dusk  a  long 
cavalcade  appoaching  from  the  sierra,  and  in  the  front 
of  it  a  lady  mounted  on  a  horse,  and  a  man  running  at 
her  side.  It  was  Mauuelita  returning,  accompanied  by 
Stephens  and  the  Navajos.  There  were  muttered 
threats  and  sonorous  Spanish  curses,  deep  if  not  loud, 
hurled  against  the  raiders,  and  pistols  were  loosened  in 
their  holsters,  and  belts  drawn  tighter  and  adjusted,  as 
the  party  drew  near.  There  were  men  among  the 
Mexicans  who  burned  to  avenge  the  insult  of  the  ab- 
duction, and  were  ready  and  eager  for  the  signal  to 
fight.  All  they  waited  for  was  the  word  to  begin. 

But  their  ardour  was  momentarily  checked  by  the 
older  and  more  experienced  among  them.  The  caval- 
cade was  suffered  to  approach  peaceably,  and  Don 
Nepomuceno  running  forward  received  his  daughter 
in  his  arms.  No  sooner  was  she  seen  to  be  safe  out  of 
the  hands  of  the  enemy,  than  the  anger  of  the  high- 
spirited  young  Mexicans  broke  forth  in  spite  of  their 
elders,  and  they  raised  the  war-cry. 

At  this  juncture  the  voice  of  the  American  was  heard 
above  the  tumult.  "  Peace  !  peace  !  "  he  proclaimed 


Weighing  the  Silver  309 

loudly  for  all  to  hear,  "  it  is  peace.  I  am  responsible. 
A  bargain  has  been  made,  and  I  am  bound  to  see  that 
Mahletonkwa  and  his  people  come  to  no  harm  at  your 
hands.  Anyone  who  touches  them  attacks  me  now. 
My  honour  is  pledged,  so  take  notice  all." 

"  I  do  not  see  what  right  you  have  to  bind  us, ' '  cried 
a  young  Mexican,  one  of  the  two  who  had  brought  the 
news  in  the  morning. 

Stephens  handed  the  mare's  rein  to  Pedro,  who  came 
running  from  the  house,  whither  Don  Nepomuceno  had 
already  conducted  his  daughter  ; ,  he  held  his  Win- 
chester at  the  ready,  and  ranged  himself  alongside  of 
Mahletonkwa,  who  was  in  the  saddle  in  front  of  his 
band. 

"  I  have  the  right  of  discovery, "  he  declared  boldly. 
' '  It  was  I  who  found  her  with  them,  and  made  terms 
for  her  release.  Those  terms  shall  be  satisfied  to  the 
last  dollar  in  my  pocket  and  the  last  cartridge  in  my 
belt.  Come,  my  friends,"  and  he  changed  his  tone  a 
little  here,  "  let  us  show  ourselves  honourable  men. 
Faith  must  be  kept." 

His  appeal  was  hardly  needed  by  the  older  and  more 
experienced  Mexicans,  who  had  dealt  with  the  wild 
Indians  too  often  before  this  not  to  agree  with  him 
fully,  and  their  influence  quickly  reduced  the  young 
hotheads  to  reason.  Assurances  were  given  that  the 
terms  he  had  made  should  be  kept,  and  the  Navajos 
be  freed  absolutely  from  molestation. 

Don  Nepomuceno  hurried  back  from  the  house  when 
he  had  restored  Manuelita  to  the  arms  of  her  aunt,  and 
embraced  Stephens  with  effusion,  calling  him  her 
saviour  and  deliverer. 

1 '  Come  aside  with  me  one  moment,  my  friend, ' '  said 
the  American,  holding  him  by  the  hand,  and  check- 


310  Lone  Pine 

ing,  as  politely  as  might  be,  the  flow  of  thanks  poured 
upon  him,  "  there  is  something  I  must  speak  with  you 
about  at  once."  They  moved  a  little  apart  from  the 
spectators.  "  I  made  a  bargain  with  Mahletonkwa," 
said  Stephens,  "to  guarantee  him  against  any  injury  or 
retaliation  for  what  has  happened,  and  that  has  already 
been  accepted  by  your  good  friends  here.  We  were 
quite  in  the  Indians'  power,  you  know,  and  of  course  I 
was  obliged  to  promise  this.  But  I  also  promised 
Mahletonkwa  a  sum  of  money.  In  fact  I  must  tell  you 
that  I  promised  him  silver  dollars  enough  to  weigh 
down  the  rifle  he  carries  ;  that  will  mean  two  hundred 
or  two  hundred  and  fifty,  I  expect.  Now,  I  have  not 
got  them  here,  but  I  could  easily  get  them  by  going  to 
Santa  Fe,  only  that  would  take  so  much  time  ;  and 
what  I  wanted  to  ask  is,  who  is  there  among  the  San 
Remo  people,  do  you  think,  that  could  advance  me  the 
amount  ?  I  should  like  to  settle  Mahletonkwa' s  busi- 
ness right  away." 

' '  But,  my  dear  friend, ' '  cried  Don  Nepomuceno,  ' '  I 
will  pay  the  money,  of  course.  Thank  goodness,  it  is 
only  a  quarter  of  what  he  asked  at  first. ' ' 

"  But  it 's  my  debt,"  interrupted  the  American.  "  I 
made  the  terms  on  my  own  hook  entirely. ' ' 

"  Impossible,  dear  friend,"  cried  the  Mexican,  "  ab- 
solutely impossible  and  out  of  the  question !  You  touch 
on  my  honour.  I  am  most  grateful  to  you  for  having 
succeeded  in  reducing  his  ridiculous  demand  by  three- 
fourths,  but  not  one  media  real  can  I  suffer  you  to  pay. 
I  should  be  disgraced  for  ever  in  the  eyes  of  myself  and 
of  my  people.  Thank  God,  the  Sanchez  family  can  still 
pay  their  scot,  if  they  are  not  so  rich  as  they  were. 
The  silver  shall  be  forthcoming  immediately.  Oh, 
there  are  ways  and  means," — he  nodded  his  head 


Weighing  the  Silver  311 

mysteriously, — "  you  shall  see.  How  much  did  you 
say  will  be  needed  ?  " 

"  About  twelve  or  thirteen  pounds'  weight  of  silver," 
returned  Stephens  ;  "at  least  so  I  guessed  when  I 
hefted  his  rifle." 

' '  Very  well, ' '  said  Sanchez,  ' '  if  you  will  remain 
here  and  keep  the  peace — I  see  some  of  our  young  men 
are  hardly  to  be  restrained — then  I  will  go  in  and  bring 
out  the  scales  and  the  money,  and  he  shall  have  his 
price." 

He  went  into  the  house,  and  in  a  few  minutes  Pedro 
appeared  with  three  long  cottonwood  poles  and  a  rope. 
The  poles  were  bound  together  at  the  top  so  as  to  form 
a  tripod  higher  than  a  man's  head,  and  a  piece  of  rope 
was  left  hanging  down  from  the  apex.  Then  he 
brought  out  a  beam  with  a  pair  of  large  rude  scales, 
and  the  middle  of  the  beam  being  attached  to  the  rope 
the  balance  was  formed.  By  this  time  it  was  dark, 
and  Pedro  returned  once  more  for  some  torches  of  pine, 
which  were  lit  and  threw  their  weird  lights  flickering 
over  the  faces  of  the  bystanders.  The  lurid  glare  lit 
up  the  swarthy,  bearded  faces  of  the  Mexicans  who 
crowded  round,  and  the  dark,  smooth  cheeks  and  flash- 
ing eyes  of  the  Indians,  who,  recognising  that  Stephens 
had  power  to  protect  them  from  attack,  dismounted 
and  closed  up  the  ring. 

Then  from  the  darkness  appeared  Don  Nepomuceno 
with  a  heavy  leathern  sack,  and  approached  the  scales. 

"Now,  then,  Mahletonkwa, "  said  Stephens,  "put 
your  rifle  in  one  of  those  scales,  put  it  on  whichever 
side  you  choose,  and  my  agreement  is  to  put  silver 
enough  in  the  other  to  pull  it  down." 

The  Indian  came  forward,  and  stooping  down  placed 
his  rifle  on  one  side  of  the  balance.  Don  Nepomuceno 


312  Lone  Pine 

stepped  forward  with  the  bag  of  silver  towards  the 
other. 

"  Wait  one  moment,  senor,  if  you  please,"  said  Ste- 
phens to  the  latter.  '  There  is  one  little  matter  I  wish 
to  settle  first.  I  think,  Mahletonkwa,"  he  addressed 
the  Indian,  "  we  agreed  that  I  should  give  your  rifle's 
weight  in  silver,  was  it  not  so  ?  " 

The  Indian  assented. 

"  Is  your  rifle  loaded  ?  " 

"It  is." 

"  And  was  that  in  the  bargain  ?  " 

"  It  was  loaded  when  we  made  the  bargain,"  an- 
swered the  Navajo. 

"  And  is  it  loaded  now  in  the  same  way  ?  " 

The  Indian  remained  silent. 

"  I  'm  willing  you  should  have  the  full  weight  of  it 
loaded,"  said  Stephens,  "  I  don't  make  any  objection 
to  that.  Will  you,  then,  fire  off  the  load  that  's  in  it 
now,  and  put  in  another  here  before  us  all,  that  we 
may  see  how  big  a  load  you  use  ?  " 

The  Indian  sullenly  indicated  dissent. 

"  We  wish  to  have  everything  fair,"  said  Stephens. 
' '  Why  do  you  refuse  ?  ' ' 

"  It  is  very  well  as  it  is,"  muttered  Mahletonkwa, 
looking  singularly  disconcerted. 

'  Then  will  you  put  the  ramrod  into  the  bore  and 
let  us  see  how  big  a  load  you  have  got  in  it  ?  "  persisted 
the  American.  "  Or  would  you  prefer  that  I  should 
do  it  for  you  ?  " 

He  put  out  his  hand  as  if  to  take  the  rifle  for  the 
purpose,  but  the  Navajo  sulkily  caught  it  up  himself. 
He  spoke  not  a  single  word,  and  maintained  an  im- 
passive face  as  he  picked  out  a  little  tuft  of  rag  that 
was  wedged  inside  the  muzzle  of  the  gun,  and,  tilting 


Weighing  the  Silver  313 

the  barrel  slightly  forward,  allowed  sixty  or  seventy 
small  round  bullets  to  run  oat  one  after  the  other, 
plop,  plop,  plop,  into  the  scale. 

A  roar  of  scornful  laughter  went  up  from  the  Mexi- 
cans at  this  demonstration  of  the  American's  'cuteness 
and  the  Indian's  baffled  cunning. 

Mahletonkwa  deliberately  swept  the  bullets  back 
into  his  pouch,  and  replaced  the  rifle  in  the  scale. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Stephens,  with  quiet  sarcasm  ; 
"  now  I  think  we  can  begin.  Don  Nepomuceno,  will 
you  pour  in  the  silver  ?  " 

The  bag  was  untied,  and  from  the  mouth  of  it  a 
stream  of  big  white  round  coins  rattled  into  the  oppos- 
ite scale.  Bigger  and  bigger  grew  the  heap  ;  the 
flickering  torchlight  played  on  dollars  from  Mexico 
and  dollars  that  bore  the  image  and  superscription  of 
many  an  old  Spanish  king  who  reigned  before  Mexico 
was  a  republic,  on  coins  stamped  in  the  United  States 
Mint,  and  on  five-franc  pieces  that  displayed  the  head 
of  L,ouis  Napoleon — pieces  that  had  come  over  with  the 
French  army  that  for  a  while  had  supported  the  rickety 
throne  of  ill-fated  Maximilian.  And  now  the  stream 
ran  slower  and  slower,  and  the  rifle  began  to  lift  ;  the 
Mexican  stopped  pouring,  and  taking  a  handful  from 
the  bag  tossed  them  on  to  the  pile  one  at  a  time. 
Gradually  the  rifle  rose,  the  beam  turned,  the  silver 
scale  descended  ;  yet  one  more  dollar  was  thrown  in 
and  it  touched  the  earth.  The  tale  was  complete. 

"There  's  your  silver,  Mahletonkwa,"  said  the 
American;  "  your  rifle  kicks  the  beam.  Are  you  satis- 
fied now  ?  ' ' 

"  I  am  satisfied,"  said  the  Navajo  ;  "  it  is  enough." 
He  took  a  sack  from  one  of  his  men  and  poured  the 
glittering  stream  into  it. 


314  Lone  Pine 

"£asfa/"  said  Stephens.  "Then  it  is  settled. 
You  acknowledge  that  my  tongue  is  not  double.  I 
have  done  what  I  said  I  would  do. ' ' 

"  And  now,"  he  went  on,  addressing  the  bystanders, 
"  I  have  only  one  word  more  to  say  to  you.  Let  by- 
gones be  bygones.  The  senorita  has  been  brought  back 
safe  and  unharmed,  and  the  matter  is  over  and  done 
with.  L,et  no  man  molest  these  people  in  any  way  for 
it,  now  or  at  any  future  time.  If  any  man  among  you 
does  so,  he  makes  himself  my  enemy,  for  I  am  surety 
to  the  Indians  in  this.  If  he  touches  them,  he  must 
walk  over  my  dead  body.  And  to  you,  Navajos,  I 
have  one  more  word  to  say," — he  had  caught  sight 
while  he  was  speaking  of  the  sinister  face  of  Backus 
among  the  crowd, — "  be  advised  and  go  straight  back 
to  your  own  country.  Don't  hang  about  here  ;  and 
above  all  don't  touch  whiskey.  Take  my  advice  and 
let  the  sun  of  to-morrow  find  you  ten  leagues  from  San 
Remo — and  sober.  I  have  spoken." 

He  turned  away,  and  in  company  with  Don  Nepo- 
muceno  and  his  son  retired  to  the  house,  while  the 
Indians  remounted  their  horses  and  filed  off  in  the 
moonlight,  and  the  assembly  gradually  dispersed. 

Inside  the  house  Stephens -found  Manuelita  in  the 
sitting-room,  with  various  female  friends  and  relations 
who  had  gathered  to  see  the  heroine  of  such  an  advent- 
ure and  to  hear  her  story.  Her  shining  eyes  and 
flushed  cheeks  made  her  look  more  bewitching  than 
ever,  but  he  saw  how  overstrained  were  her  nerves, 
and  he  longed  to  turn  out  the  cackling  crowd  and 
carry  her  off  far  away  to  some  peaceful  retreat  where 
no  fear  or  grief  should  ever  dare  to  come  near  her 
again.  But  no  sooner  had  he  shown  himself  in  the 
room  than  a  stout  old  lady  who  had  been  Manuelita' s 


Weighing  the  Silver  315 

nurse  in  childhood  arose  and  fell  upon  his  neck  and 
kissed  him  heartily. 

"  Blessings  on  you  !  "  she  cried,  with  tearful  lo- 
quacity, "  and  may  the  Madre  de  Dios  and  all  the 
blessed  saints  be  with  you  and  reward  you  for  your 
goodness."  She  clasped  him  to  her  heart.  "  You  are 
a  hero,"  she  said,  "  a  perfect  hero  !  you  have  brought 
us  back  my  dear  child  safe  and  unharmed  from  the 
clutches  of  those  anathematised  Indians,  whom  may 
the  devil  fly  away  with  !  " 

Poor  Stephens  felt  weak  ;  he  was  helplessly  taken 
aback. 

And  then  a  second  old  lad}7,  the  mother  of  Pedro  the 
peon  it  was  this  time,  who  had  been  devoted  to  Manuel- 
ita  for  years,  felt  it  incumbent  on  her  also  to  demon- 
strate her  gratitude  to  the  deliverer  of  her  darling,  and 
she  too  bore  down  on  him,  and  precipitated  herself 
upon  his  shoulder  to  mingle  her  tears,  her  kisses,  and 
her  blessings  with  the  other's. 

Stephens's  feelings  were  indescribable. 

"  '  It  never  rains  but  it  pours, '  "  he  thought.  "It's 
ten  years  since  I  've  been  kissed  by  a  woman,  and  now 
I  'm  hugged  by  two  at  once."  He  endeavoured  to 
extricate  himself  with  becoming  gratitude  from  these 
entangling  embraces,  that  he  might  advance  to  receive 
the  thanks  of  Don  Nepomuceno's  sister  and  her  rela- 
tions. Their  expressions  of  gratitude  and  admiration 
were  not  less  ardent  than  those  which  had  already  been 
showered  upon  him,  but  to  his  immense  relief  they  took 
a  more  decorous  form.  He  acknowledged  their  com- 
pliments and  their  thanks  as  gracefully  as  he  could, 
longing  all  the  time  to  escape  from  this  ordeal  and  get 
away  as  quickly  as  possible  in  order  to  take  in  hand 
the  matter  of  the  burial  of  the  dead  prospector. 


316  Lone  Pine 

As  soon  as  he  could  decently  do  so,  he  took  the  first 
opportunity  again  to  call  Don  Nepomuceno  apart.  "  I 
want  to  get  you  to  lend  me  a  spade, ' '  he  said  ;  "it  will 
save  me  the  journey  of  going  back  to  the  pueblo  for 
one.  I  have  a  little  trip  to  make  up  into  the  sierra  to- 
night "  ;  and  he  explained  to  the  Mexican  how  he  had 
discovered  almost  by  chance  where  the  bones  of  the 
nameless  victim  of  the  Navajos  were  lying. 

Don  Nepomuceno  urged  him  to  put  it  off.  '  'Manana, 
por  la  manana ;  porque  ahora  es  tarde  "  — "  Leave  it 
till  to-morrow  ;  it  is  too  late  now,"  he  said.  "  Rest 
to-night ;  there  is  no  hurry." 

"There  's  a  good  moon,"  said  Stephens,  "and  I 
don't  want  to  delay  about  it.  It  's  all  in  a  day's  work 
anyhow.  But  can  you  lend  me  the  spade,  for  if  not  I 
must  go  home  after  one  ?  ' ' 

"  But  certainly,  my  dear  friend,  assuredly  I  can. 
Everything  I  have  is  at  your  service.  L/et  me  lend 
you  a  horse  too,  for  your  mare  has  done  her  work  ; 
leave  her  here  with  me  to  eat  corn,  and  to-morrow  she 
will  be  fresh." 

Stephens  very  willingly  availed  himself  of  this  offer, 
and  half  an  hour  later  the  sharp  eyes  of  Felipe,  watch- 
ing hungrily  for  his  enemy,  saw  the  figure  he  knew  so 
well  riding  away  quietly  from  Don  Nepomuceno' s 
house  in  the  direction  of  the  sierra,  and  he  detected  by 
the  light  of  the  moon  that  he  carried  an  unusual  bur- 
den in  the  shape  of  a  spade  across  the  saddle  in  front 
of  him.  Here  in  the  open  the  boy  did  not  see  his 
chance  to  make  a  sudden  attack  and  take  him  by  sur- 
prise at  close  quarters  as  he  had  planned,  and  being 
puzzled  by  the  sight  of  the  spade,  and  full  of  wonder  as 
to  what  his  errand  could  be,  he  ran  full  speed  to  the 
storekeeper's  house  to  inform  him  of  it. 


Weighing  the  Silver  3 1  7 

As  he  arrived  there,  he  saw  another  mysterious 
horseman  ride  away  from  the  corral  at  the  back  of  the 
house  into  the  night,  and  had  he  been  able  to  get  close 
enough  to  him  he  might  have  seen  that  he,  too,  bore  a 
burden,  for  the  rider  was  no  other  than  the  Navajo 
chief  himself,  and  the  burden  that  he  bore  consisted  of 
several  bottles  of  Mr.  Backus's  fiery  whiskey,  while  a 
round  number  of  what  had  lately  been  a  part  of  Don 
Nepomuceno's  precious  hoard  of  dollars  were  now  lining 
the  interior  of  the  storekeeper's  wallet. 

Stephens' s  counsel  had  been  disregarded.  The  Span- 
iards have  a  riddling  proverb  which  asks,  "  What  is 
the  cheapest  thing  on  earth  ?  ' '  and  the  answer  is, 
"  Good  advice."  In  the  eyes  of  the  Navajo  the  advice 
to  let  whiskey  alone  was  very  cheap  indeed.  The  mor- 
row's sun  would  find  him  neither  ten  leagues  from  San 
Remo  nor  sober. 

Felipe  encountered  Backus  at  his  own  door,  and 
hastily  recounted  to  him  how  he  had  just  seen  the 
prospector  ride  off  in  the  direction  of  the  sierra  with  a 
spade  across  his  saddle. 

' '  Be  after  him  then,  man, ' '  cried  the  storekeeper  ; 
"  there  's  your  chance,  if  you  have  n't  lost  it.  He  's 
gone  after  something  with  that  spade,  you  bet.  Keep 
him  in  sight,  and  don't  ever  let  your  eye  be  off  him 
till  he  begins  to  use  it,  and  when  he  's  busy  at  work 
with  it,  there  's  your  opportunity.  Or  if  you  like  to 
risk  a  fuss,  show  yourself  boldly,  and  go  up  to  him  and 
mebbe  he  won't  suspect  what  you  mean  to  do.  But 
don't  miss  your  chance." 

Felipe  was  gone  like  a  shot. 

No  sooner  had  the  boy  disappeared  than  Backus  be- 
gan to  regret  it.  He  had  been  rather  flustered,  before 
Felipe  came  up  to  him,  by  his  interview  with  the 


318  Lone  Pine 

Navajo  chief,  for  Mahletonkwa  had  begun  by  taxing 
Backus  with  not  having  kept  Stephens  from  sending 
for  the  soldiers,  by  making  away  with  his  letters  to  the 
governor  and  the  general,  and  he  had  retorted  by  de- 
claring that  he  had  done  so,  that  no  soldiers  were  coin- 
ing, and  that  if  Mahletonkwa  had  allowed  himself  to 
be  bluffed  he  had  only  himself  to  thank  for  his  idiocy. 
But  they  did  not  waste  much  time  in  disputing,  for 
Mahletonkwa' s  visit  to  him  had  not  been  to  quarrel 
but  to  obtain  liquor,  while  Backus' s  strongest  desire 
was  to  become  the  possessor  of  a  goodly  lot  of  those 
shining  dollars  of  Don  Nepomuceno  that  had  attracted 
his  cupidity. 

;  Now,  however,  on  thinking  over  what  Felipe  had 
reported,  a  possible  explanation  of  the  spade  flashed 
upon  him.  Suppose  Stephens  had  got  the  secret  of  the 
mine  from  the  Navajos  !  He  had  remarked  the  vigour 
and  determination  with  which  the  prospector  had  placed 
himself  apparently  on  the  side  of  the  Navajos  as  against 
the  Mexicans  when  they  arrived.  Probably  this  was  a 
return  for  their  having  shown  him  the  mine,  which, 
moreover,  would  account  for  the  unaccountable  delay 
of  the  party  in  arriving  that  afternoon. 

The  idea  of  the  prospector  having  stolen  a  march  on 
him  like  this,  in  the  matter  of  the  mine,  irritated  him 
intensely  ;  he  knew  so  little  practically  of  mining  that 
he  thought  it  quite  possible  that  Stephens  had  started 
off  thus  in  the  night  with  a  spade  to  dig  up  silver  out 
of  an  old  mine,  as  a  man  might  dig  up  the  coins  of  a 
buried  hoard.  Filled  with  this  idea,  he  took  a  sudden 
resolution  to  follow  Felipe  and  see  what  took  place, 
and,  if  there  was  any  secret  worth  getting  hold  of,  to 
do  his  best  to  make  himself  master  of  it. 

He  hastily  belted  on  his  revolver,  caught  up  an  over- 


Weighing  the  Silver  319 

coat,  as  lie  recognised  that  he  might  have  to  lie  in  wait 
for  an  indefinite  time,  and  the  night  air  in  the  sierra 
was  chill,  and  started  forth  on  Felipe's  track.  He 
knew  the  direction  ;  and  assuming  that  Stephens  had 
taken  the  trail  for  the  sierra,  according  to  the  informa- 
tion Felipe  had  brought,  he  decided  to  take  the  same 
line. 

There  were  plough-lands  across  on  this  side  of 
the  Santiago  River  also,  and  the  trail  led  through  a 
part  of  these.  Where  it  crossed  the  ditch  that  supplied 
them  with  water  he  found  the  ground  wet  on  the  farther 
bank,  and  fresh  hoof-prints  of  a  horse  in  the  soft  earth. 
Someone  had  crossed  there  on  horseback  not  more  than 
fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  before ;  yes,  and  there,  close 
alongside,  was  the  sharp-toed,  inward-curved  print  of 
an  Indian  moccasin.  Stephens  and  Felipe  were  both 
ahead  of  him. 

It  was  only  in  a  place  like  this,  where  the  soft  earth 
retained  a  deep  impression,  that  he  could  pretend  to 
recognise  their  tracks  by  the  light  of  the  moon,  but  the 
fact  that  he  had  judged  so  accurately  the  course  they 
were  steering  gave  him  confidence  as  he  pressed  for- 
ward, still  following  the  line.  And  now  the  foot  of  the 
sierra  was  reached,  and  the  trail  plunged  abruptly  into 
broken  and  rugged  defiles.  Onward  he  pushed  with- 
out halting,  encouraged  again  and  again  by  detecting 
at  intervals  the  tracks  of  the  horse  going  ahead.  At 
last,  however,  there  came  a  long  interval,  when  he  no 
longer  saw  the  tracks.  For  a  while  he  tried  to  per- 
suade himself  that  it  was  only  a  chance  that  had  caused 
him  to  fail  to  notice  them,  but  he  came  finally  to  where 
the  trail  crossed  a  little  creek,  and  the  ground  was  soft 
and  the  trees  were  open  enough  to  let  the  moonlight 
fall  clearly  on  the  spot.  The  sign  of  the  Indian  horses 


320  Lone  Pine 

that  had  crossed  it  coming  to  San  Remo  during  the 
afternoon  was  evident,  but  the  footprints  of  the  horse 
he  was  following  in  the  other  direction  were  not  there. 
It  was  undeniable  that  he  must  have  quitted  the  trail. 

"  Now,  whereabouts  did  the  son  of  a  gun  leave  it  ?  " 
asked  Backus  of  himself ;  ' '  and  how  far  back  was  it 
that  I  got  a  squint  of  his  track  last  ?  ' '  He  pulled  out 
a  cold  lunch,  that  he  had  brought  along  in  his  pocket, 
put  on  his  overcoat,  and  sat  down  to  take  a  rest  and 
think  things  over.  If  Stephens  had  simply  turned  off 
and  camped  near  the  trail,  he  might  have  missed  him 
by  very  little.  Perhaps  Felipe  had  been  able  to  keep 
him  in  sight,  and  had  stuck  to  him. 

He  started  to  take  the  back  track,  keeping  a  sharp 
watch  out  for  likely  places  for  a  rider  to  turn  out  on 
one  side  or  other  of  the  trail.  There  were  plenty  of 
them,  but  he  found  no  sign  in  any  of  those  that  he  ex- 
amined. And  he  had  the  exasperating  sense,  that  try- 
ing to  hit  off  a  lost  trail  by  moonlight  was  as  futile  a 
job  as  a  man  ever  undertook.  By  daylight  a  master 
of  woodcraft  may  assure  himself  that  he  has  not  walked 
over  a  hoofprint  for  which  he  is  searching  without  see- 
ing it,  but  the  best  trailer  that  ever  stepped  can  miss  a 
thing  by  moonlight  that  by  day  would  be  as  plain  to 
him  as  a  printed  book. 

"  A  fool's  errand,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  that 's  what 
I  'm  on.  Here  I  might  be  comfortably  at  home  and 
snug  in  bed,  and  instead  of  that  I  'm  lost  up  here  in 
the  sierra  away  along  after  midnight,  and  nary  chance 
of  finding  what  I  come  out  after."  He  was  thoroughly 
out  of  temper  by  this  time,  and  his  language  was  ac- 
cording. "  Mine  !  d — n  the  mine  !  I  believe  the 
whole  thing  is  a  holy  fraud,  and  if  anyone  ever  again 
catches  me  out  in  the  dark,  on  top  of  a  rugged  range 


Weighing  the  Silver  321 

of  hills  hunting  for  a  mine  that  never  existed,  I  '11 
give  him  leave  to  cut  me  into  slices  and  fry  me  like 
so  much  bacon."  He  sat  down  to  rest  a  moment 
before  deciding  finally  whether  to  make  any  further 
effort,  or  just  chuck  and  make  the  best  of  his  way 
home. 

At  this  moment,  faint  but  distinct,  came  the  sound 
of  a  shot  fired  somewhere  in  the  mountain  off  to  the 
south.  Backus  sprang  to  his  feet  instantly,  shaking 
himself  free  from  his  despondency  like  a  cloak. 

"  By  the  jumping  Jemini  !  "  he  ejaculated,  "  there 
they  are,  I  '11  wager.  Felipe  must  have  managed  to 
stick  to  the  trail.  Good  for  him!  I  wonder  if  he  's 
managed  to  plug  him  ?  I  '11  just  take  a  scout  round 
that  way  and  see  if  I  can  spot  anything." 

The  moon  was  beginning  to  sink  in  the  west,  but 
there  was  light  enough  for  him  to  pick  his  way  through 
the  trees  and  rocks  in  the  direction  of  the  shot.  Sud- 
denly he  heard  five  shots  in  quick  succession.  They 
were  nearer  and  clearer  than  before.  But  they  were 
followed  by  absolute  silence.  Again  and  again  he 
paused  to  listen,  but  no  sounds  greeted  his  ear  save 
those  that  belonged  to  the  woods  at  night,  till  at  last, 
after  scrambling  up  a  rocky  ridge,  he  became  aware  of 
a  reflected  light  shining  at  the  foot  of  a  cliff.  That 
meant  a  camp-fire.  Hist  !  was  that  somebody  talking  ? 
If  Felipe  had  killed  his  man  properly,  there  was  no  one 
for  him  to  talk  to.  He  advanced  a  step  or  two  cau- 
tiously, and  paused  again.  He  fancied  he  could  hear 
a  voice  ;  he  would  put  his  ear  to  the  ground  and  see  if 
he  could  not  hear  better  so  ;  he  stooped,  and  sank  on 
all  fours  as  if  he  was  after  a  deer,  bending  his  head  to- 
wards the  earth,  and  as  he  did  so  he  received  a  hard 
blow  on  his  face,  and  a  smart  pang  shot  through  his 


322  Lone   Pine 

cheek,  and  at  the  same  moment  his  ears  were  assailed 
by  an  angry,  buzzing  rattle. 

"  My  God  !  "  he  cried,  "  I  'm  stung  by  a  snake  !  " 
He  threw  up  his  hand  to  his  wounded  cheek  and  stag- 
gered to  his  feet,  while  the  snake,  having  delivered  his 
blow,  slithered  away  to  his  home  in  the  rocks.  The 
agony  of  the  poison  began  to  dart  through  his  veins. 
He  struggled  blindly  forward  towards  the  light,  which 
now  seemed  ever  so  far  away ;  he  stopped  and  drew  out 
his  knife,  with  the  idea  of  cutting  out  the  venom,  but 
it  was  right  in  his  cheek  ;  had  it  been  in  a  finger  he 
might  have  chopped  it  off,  but  he  could  not  slash  away 
half  his  own  face.  He  flung  the  knife  wildly  from  him 
and  reeled  forward  again,  knocking  against  the  trees 
as  he  went  like  a  blinded  wolf.  He  had  been  struck 
by  a  big  rattler  with  a  full  dose  of  venom  in  him  after 
his  winter's  rest.  His  knees  grew  weak,  and  tottered 
under  him  ;  he  fell,  and  struggled  up  again,  only  to  fall 
once  more;  fearful  pains  ran  through  him,  and  his  body 
seemed  too  big  for  his  skin. 

"  Help,"  he  cried,  in  a  spent  and  broken  voice; 
"  help  me!  oh,  help!  "  and  he  pitched  forward  and  lay 
prone  on  his  face,  writhing  and  digging  his  nails  into 
the  ground. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

A  PREHISTORIC  HEARTH 

WHEN  Stephens  took  his  way  through  the  moon- 
light, carrying  the  spade  before  him  on  the 
saddle,  his  heart  was  lighter  than  it  had  been  for  days. 
He  was  so  used  to  living  alone  that  this  novel  experi- 
ence of  being  constantly  in  the  company  of  others, 
night  and  day,  without  interruption,  ever  since  the 
hour  when  he  had  rescued  Josefa  from  the  cacique, 
had  tired  him  out.  Also  he  disliked  the  sense  of 
having  others  dependent  on  him,  and  during  the  whole 
of  that  time  he  had  been  burdened  with  responsibility, 
first  for  Josefa  and  then  for  the  Mexican  girl.  At  last, 
thank  goodness,  that  was  all  over  and  done  with. 
Josefa  was  secure  in  Reyna's  keeping,  and  Manuelita 
was  safe  at  home,  while  Mahletonkwa  had  been  paid 
his  money  and  dismissed  ;  now  John  Stephens  was  his 
own  man  again,  and  not  bound  to  see  after  other  peo- 
ple's affairs  any  longer.  He  could  go  about  his  proper 
business  by  himself  in  his  own  independent  way,  and 
that  was  precisely  what  he  liked  better  than  anything 
else  iu  the  world.  As  for  this  matter  of  finding  and 
burying  the  dead  man's  bones,  it  was  one  for  which  he 
was  answerable  to  nobody  but  himself.  Of  his  own 
free  will  and  pleasure  he  had  decided  that  it  should  be 
done,  and,  accordingly,  here  he  was  doing  it.  And 

323 


324  Lone  Pine 

what  a  useful  pretext  it  had  supplied  him  with  for 
getting  away  from  the  fuss  and  flummery  at  San  Remo. 
When  he  thought  of  those  two  stout,  elderly  dames 
falling  upon  him  like  a  pair  of  animated  feather-beds, 
and  giving  him  their  blessing,  he  felt  weak  ;  what  a 
mercy  he  had  this  excuse  of  the  burial  to  help  him 
escape  from  it  all  !  And  then  his  mind  reverted  to 
Manuelita  sitting  there  in  the  midst  of  the  fuss,  her 
eyes  bright  as  ever  in  spite  of  fatigue  and  of  the  tears 
of  joy  she  had  shed  at  getting  home,  her  cheeks  pink 
with  excitement,  and  her  lively  tongue  going  sixteen 
to  the  dozen.  Was  he,  after  all,  so  particularly  glad 
to  be  off  by  himself  once  more  ?  He  hated  a  mob  of 
people  on  principle,  but  was  he  so  particularly  glad  to 
get  away  from  her  ?  Well,  come  to  think  of  it,  in  a 
manner  he  was,  and  yet,  again,  he  was  n't.  Looking 
at  it  in  one  way,  he  would  n't  care  much  to  be  planted 
down  there  again  in  that  crowded  room  with  those 
cousins  and  aunts  all  round  her,  but  suppose,  now,  that 
he  had  her  once  again  with  him  up  here  in  the  sierra, 
alone  together  the  two  of  them.  He  thought  of  how 
they  had  watched  over  one  another,  turn  about,  in  the 
camp,  and  how  she  had  mocked  at  his  simple  cookery, 
and  the  fun  they  had  really  had  with  one  another. 
What  a  good  time  it  had  been  ;  and  yet  when  he  was 
having  it,  so  it  seemed  to  him  now,  he  had  not  been 
aware  of  the  fact.  Perhaps  he  had  been  too  anxious 
about  her  then  to  realise  it,  but  it  was  God's  truth  all 
the  same,  and  they  had  had  a  good  time.  What  was 
more,  he  knew  it  now  and  no  mistake,  and  he  wondered 
how  it  had  come  about  that  it  was  so  good.  By  George ! 
but  he  did  wish  he  had  her  along  right  here  and  now, 
she  riding  on  the  horse,  with  him  running  alongside 
just  as  he  had  done  that  afternoon.  She  was  good  to 


A  Prehistoric  Hearth  325 

talk  to,  and  no  mistake,  and  when  he  pointed  things 
out  to  her  and  told  her  about  them,  everything  seemed 
to  have  an  unwonted  zest  which  was  lacking  now  in 
her  absence,  although  he  was  riding  over  the  very  same 
ground  he  had  traversed  with  her  only  a  few  hours  ago. 
Every  turn  in  the  trail  recalled  to  his  mind  something 
he  had  said  to  her  or  she  had  said  to  him.  And  how 
they  had  laughed,  to  be  sure  !  He  sighed  at  the  recol- 
lection without  having  the  least  idea  that  he  sighed, 
but  he  did  not  shake  off  the  idea  of  how  good  it  would 
be  to  have  her  with  him.  Strange  to  say  he  began  to 
discover  that  he  did  not  seem  to  quite  care  for  his  own 
company  as  he  used  to  do.  Unconsciously  he  lost 
himself  in  a  reverie,  until  his  horse  stumbled  over  a 
stone,  and  he  jerked  the  rein  and  struck  him  indig- 
nantly with  the  spur. 

And  all  the  time  Felipe,  with  the  revolver  in  his  belt, 
was  tracking  him  like  a  sleuth-hound. 

Stephens  reached  the  camp  where  they  had  passed 
the  night  in  the  little  park,  and  the  recollection  of  it 
all  came  back  vividly ;  he  remembered  how  startled  he 
had  been  when  she  woke  him,  and  he  had  sprung  up 
with  his  rifle  cocked,  ready  to  shoot  ;  he  remembered 
his  surprise  and  pleasure  at  seeing  how  neat  and  trim 
she  had  made  herself  while  he  slept,  in  spite  of  all  the 
rough  and  discomposing  experiences  her  involuntary 
journey  had  involved.  "  Grit  !  Yes,  by  George  !  she 
had  lots  of  it,  sure  ;  and  endurance  too.  She  was  just 
about  as  brave  as  they  make  'em." 

Through  the  little  park  he  passed,  and  out  of  it 
again  on  the  other  side.  Now  he  must  begin  to  think 
about  his  destination ;  somewhere  along  here  he  meant 
to  turn  off  to  the  left  in  order  to  cut  in  upon  the  head 
of  that  little  cafton  where  he  had  killed  the  deer. 


326  Lone  Pine 

That  would  save  quite  a  lot  of  travelling.  There 
was  a  good  mooti,  and  there  was  no  need  to  retrace 
the  whole  trail  back  to  the  exact  spot  where  he  had 
fired  the  shot.  "  If  I  only  had  Faro  along  now,"  he 
said,  "  he  could  take  me  to  the  place  where  I  killed 
the  deer,  blindfold,  if  I  wanted  him  to."  But  Faro 
was  far  away  at  Don  Nepomuceno's  ;  he  was  a  little 
footsore  after  the  long  journey  he  had  made,  so  his 
master  left  him  behind  under  the  care  of  Manuelita. 
After  a  time  Stephens  noticed  a  favourable  place  for 
turning  off  among  the  pines,  at  what  he  judged  would 
be  about  the  right  distance  to  strike  the  canon.  He 
wheeled  his  horse  sharp  to  the  left,  and  pushed  steadily 
N>n  over  the  carpet  of  pine-needles  in  the  new  direction. 
And  Felipe,  following  ever  like  a  sleuth-hound,  here 
overran  the  track  just  as  did  Backus  half  an  hour  later. 
But,  unlike  Backus,  the  acuter  Indian  boy  had  not 
overrun  it  many  minutes  before  his  quick  instincts  told 
him  what  he  had  done  ;  he  at  once  retraced  his  steps, 
and  quickly  succeeded  in  finding  the  place  where  Ste- 
phens had  wheeled  so  sharp.  He  followed  this  new 
direction  through  the  pines  for  a  little  way,  but  the 
horse-tracks  on  the  dry  pine-needles  were  practically 
invisible  at  night,  and  he  soon  became  conscious  that 
he  had  lost  them,  and  that  it  was  doubtful  whether  he 
could  succeed  in  recovering  them  again.  Neverthe- 
less, with  the  tireless  determination  of  his  race,  he  per- 
severed, more  like  a  hound  than  ever  as  he  quested 
now  to  right  and  now  to  left  and  now  making  a  bold 
cast  forward,  in  the  hope  that  by  a  lucky  chance  he 
might  stumble  upon  them.  He  passed  thus  through 
the  belt  of  pine  timber  and  out  into  the  open  park 
country  beyond  it.  But  casting  about  for  a  lost  trail 
at  night  is  a  slow  business,  and  the  moon  was  already 


A   Prehistoric   Hearth  327 

low  in  the  west  when  his  eye  ranging  around  caught 
the  light  of  a  fire  against  a  distant  cliff.  "  That  must 
be  he, ' '  cried  the  boy,  grasping  the  pistol  with  his  left 
hand  ;  "  I  '11  get  him  now." 

Stephens  had  a  good  eye  for  country;  he  had  judged 
his  distance  correctly,  and  he  hit  the  head  of  the  little 
canon  he  was  searching  for  with  singular  accuracy. 
The  country  that  he  had  here  got  into  was  beautifully 
open  and  park-like,  only  with  some  rough,  rocky  ridges 
intersecting  it  here  and  there,  and-  he  searched  around 
freely  and  easily,  keeping  the  moon  on  his  left  hand. 
Through  the  mountain  glades  he  wandered,  in  the 
bright,  mysterious  light  which  seems  so  clear  and  yet 
which  shows  nothing  as  it  really  is. 

"  Rather  a  fool  trick  of  mine,  this  night- work,"  said 
he,  as  his  eyes  hunted  in  vain  for  any  sign  of  what  he 
had  come  to  seek.  "  I  reckon  likely  I  '11  have  to  camp 
till  morning,  and  then,  maybe,  if  his  bones  are  lying 
anywhere  round  here,  I  '11  manage  to  find  them."  He 
drew  rein  irresolutely  on  the  margin  of  a  park-like  ex- 
panse of  undulating  meadow  larger  than  any  he  had 
seen  yet. 

"  Hullo  !  what  's  that  under  the  L,one  Pine  in  the 
middle  of  the  meadow  ?  "  A  magnificent  solitary  pine- 
tree  stood  there  in  the  moonlight,  towering  aloft,  and 
at  its  foot  a  dark,  square  object  appeared. 

"  Why,  it  looks  like  a  house  in  this  light,"  he  said  ; 
"  but  it  can't  hardly  be  one  neither."  He  turned  his 
horse's  head  towards  it  and  rode  nearer.  "It  's  a 
house,  by  George !  A  house  up  here !  No,  I  'm  blessed 
if  it  is.  It  is  only  a  rock,  but  it  's  mighty  like  one  all 
the  same.  Hullo  !  here  's  a  queer  thing  lying  close  to 
the  foot  of  it  ;  looks  like  an  old  carcass  of  some  sort  or 


328  Lone   Pine 

other.  By  George  !  but  it  's  a  dead  horse."  He 
reined  up  and  the  animal  he  bestrode  snorted  at  the 
strange  object.  It  was  the  dried  shell  of  a  horse,  so  to 
speak  ;  the  wolves  and  the  eagle-hawks  had  taken  the 
flesh  and  the  inside  portions,  but  the  skeleton  had  re- 
mained intact,  and  so,  too,  had  the  hide.  In  that  pure, 
dry  air  the  skin,  instead  of  decaying,  had  become  hard 
and  stiff,  and  clung  to  the  ribs  and  bony  framework 
still.  He  could  see  now  that  his  mistake  in  taking  the 
rock  for  a  house  was  a  very  pardonable  one  in  that 
deceptive  light,  for  it  was  much  the  size  of  an  ordinary 
adobe  cottage,  and  it  rose  square  and  abrupt  from  the 
level,  grassy  ground.  He  threw  his  head  back,  and 
his  eyes  sought  the  top  of  the  noble  pine  whose  tower- 
ing head  seemed  to  strike  against  the  stars. 

"  Well,  that  's  the  finest  tree  I  ever  saw  outside  of 
California,"  said  the  prospector. 

He  undid  the  lariat  and  dismounted,  spade  in  hand. 

"  Dead  horses  aint  exactly  common  objects  here- 
abouts," said  he.  "  If  this  one  owned  such  a  thing  as 
a  boss  when  he  was  alive,  perhaps  his  boss  might  be 
lying  hereabouts,  too." 

It  was  a  shrewd  guess,  and  as  he  stepped  round  the 
corner  of  the  rock  it  was  instantly  verified.  The  body 
of  the  man  lay  there,  stiff  and  dried  like  that  of  his 
beast.  The  clothing  seemed  to  have  partly  protected 
the  trunk  and  limbs  from  the  birds  of  prey,  but  the 
white  skull  shone  bare  and  ghastly.  The  long  boots 
proclaimed  him  an  American. 

"  Here  's  my  man,  sure  enough,"  said  Stephens,  as 
he  leaned  on  the  spade  and  looked  down  at  the  remains. 
"  Think  of  him  getting  rubbed  out  like  this  all  alone 
up  here  in  the  mountains.  No  one  's  ever  been  near 
him  since,  I  guess.  I  wonder  who  he  was  ?  " 


A  Prehistoric  Hearth  329 

He  went  back  to  the  dead  horse  and  looked  over  it 
once  more.  There  were  iron  shoes  on  the  forehoofs. 
"  That 's  another  proof,  if  one  were  wanted,  of  his  owner 
being  an  American,"  he  said.  "  Perhaps  I  could  find 
his  brand.".  He  struck  a  match  and  held  it  close  to 
the  animal's  quarter,  but  the  skin  there  had  been  rent 
and  frayed  by  the  wild  things  that  had  devoured  the 
meat,  and  he  could  not  distinguish  it. 

"  Saddle  's  gone,  I  see,"  he  added,  "  and  bridle  and 
saddle  blanket,  and  hobbles,  if  he  had  them  round  his 
neck,  end  every  mortal  thing.  It  Is  a  wonder  they  left 
the  horseshoes.  These  accursed  Navajos  have  n't  any 
scruple  about  stripping  a  dead  horse.  It 's  only  a  dead 
man  that  they  're  so  scared  about  touching." 

He  went  back  to  the  corpse  and  looked  at  it  a  second 
time.  "  Gun  's  gone,"  he  said,  "  but  that 's  of  course. 
And  they  did  n't  need  to  touch  him  when  he  was  dead 
to  get  it,  for,  according  to  the  way  Mahletonkwa  told 
it,  they  got  his  gun  from  him  when  he  was  alive. 
Pistol 's  gone,  too,  I  see.  Likely  they  got  that  off  him 
living,  before  they  shot  him  with  his  own  gun.  The}'' 
could  n't  take  the  clothes  off  him  till  he  was  dead,  and 
so  they  preferred  to  leave  them  on  him.  Wish  I  knew 
who  he  was."  He  cast  his  eyes  around.  "  Here  's 
where  he  stood  'em  off,"  he  went  on,  looking  at  a 
tiny,  stone-built  enclosure,  barely  big  enough  to  hold 
three  people  at  once,  that  nestled  against  one  side  of 
the  high  rock,  where  it  overhung.  "  That  's  the  place 
he  chose,  sure.  That 's  one  of  those  cubby-holes  those 
old  cliff-dwellers  used  to  put  up  under  the  rocks  all  about 
the  country;  I  guess  they  used  them  to  shelter  in  when 
they  were  out  on  guard.  It  was  n't  a  bad  notion  of 
this  poor  chap  to  get  in  there,  but  those  infernal  Nava- 
jos got  away  with  him  all  the  same — cunning  devils 


330  Lone  Pine 

that  they  are  !  Well,  I  might  as  well  dig  his  grave 
right  here." 

He  passed  his  horse's  lariat  round  the  enormous 
bole  of  the  great  L,one  Pine  and  made  him  fast.  Then 
choosing  a  place  between  the  mighty  roots,  that  an- 
chored it  like  cables  to  the  ground,  he  set  to  work  with 
a  will,  and  soon  had  the  narrow  last  resting-place  sunk 
in  the  soft  black  earth.  He  threw  down  the  spade,  and 
went  to  lift  the  light  burden  of  the  remains.  "  Perhaps 
I  'd  better  look  in  his  pockets  first  and  see  if  there  's 
anything  to  identify  him  by,"  he  said.  The  weather- 
worn clothes,  threadbare  from  summer  rains  and  winter 
snows,  lay  light  over  the  hollow  breast,  as  he  felt  in 
the  pocket  and  drew  out  a  small  book.  He  opened  it  ; 
it  was  weather-stained,  but  not  rotten.  The  moonlight 
was  so  bright  he  could  almost  have  read  the  writing  by 
it,  but  he  struck  a  match  to  make  sure.  A  name  was 
inscribed  on  the  first  page.  "Jlolly  K.  Fearmaker, 
1869."  There  was  no  address.  "  Never  heard  of  him 
before.  I  wonder  where  he  was  from  ?"  He  tried  the 
other  pockets  ;  there  was  nothing  save  some  bits  of 
string.  "  If  he  owned  a  purse  I  reckon  some  Navajo 
scoundrel  has  got  it  now,"  said  Stephens.  '  There's 
nothing,  I  don't  believe,  that  Mahletonkwa  would 
stick  at  for  cash." 

He  lifted  the  remains  tenderly,  and  placed  them  in 
the  grave,  gathering  up  all  that  he  could  find  ;  then 
he  shovelled  the  rich  black  mould  of  the  mountain 
meadow  on  them,  and  heaped  a  little  mound,  and  re- 
placed the  grassy  sods  on  top.  He  leaned  on  the  spade 
and  looked  down  at  his  handiwork. 

"  What  was  it  I  seem  to  remember  it  saying,  in  the 
book  that  young  Englishman  had  along  in  the  San 
Juan  district  last  summer,  and  loaned  me  to  copy  a 


A  Prehistoric  Hearth  331 

piece  out  of?  There  was  a  verse  that  I  liked,  about 
the  body  of  a  man  being  like  a  tent.  Yes,  I've  got  it 
now — 

"  '  'T  is  but  a  tent  where  takes  his  one  day's  rest 
A  Sultan  to  the  realm  of  Death  addrest ; 
The  Sultan  rises,  and  the  dark  Ferrdsh 
Strikes — and  prepares  it  for  another  guest.' 

This  grass  will  send  its  roots  down  to  where  you  lie, 
pard  ;  and  it  '11  grow  stronger  as  your  bones  grow 
rotten  ;  and  then  the  blacktail  deer  and  the  elk  will 
graze  over  your  head  and  fatten  on  the  grass  ;  and 
then,  maybe  I  myself,  or  maybe  some  other  lone  pro- 
spector just  like  you  or  me,  will  happen  along  and 
shoot  the  elk  or  the  deer,  and  the  wheel  comes  full 
circle.  Well,  so  long,  old  man,  and  sleep  sound." 

He  went  to  the  tree  and  unfastened  the  lariat  from  the 
bole.  Then  he  stooped  to  pick  up  the  spade  which  lay 
beside  the  new-made  mound.  As  he  did  so  his  eye  was 
caught  by  a  little  fragment  of  rock  that  lay  by  it,  which 
had  been  thrown  out  in  sinking  the  grave.  Mechani- 
cally he  picked  it  up,  and  its  weight  at  once  revealed 
to  his  practised  experience  that  it  was  a  mineral  of 
some  kind.  He  slipped  it  into  his  pocket  and  led  his 
horse  over  to  the  big  rock.  "  It  does  look  rather  like 
an  outcrop,"  he  said,  as  he  carelessly  knocked  off  a  few 
small  specimens  with  the  angle  of  the  spade.  He  had 
done  this  so  many  hundred  times  before,  that  he 
pocketed  them  almost  without  interest,  as  a  matter  of 
habit,  and  set  off  in  the  direction  of  the  trail.  Before 
very  long  he  came  to  a  stop. 

The  meadow  was  bounded  by  a  low  cliff,  which, 
farther  down,  became  the  wall  of  the  canon  where  he 
had  killed  the  deer.  It  was  not  more  than  about 
twenty  or  thirty  feet  high,  but  it  was  perpendicular, 


332  Lone  Pine 

in  places  even  overhanging,  and  blocked  his  way 
absolutely.  He  turned  to  the  right  along  it  in  order 
to  find  where  he  might  cross  it.  The  cliff  faced  south 
and  west,  and  the  bright  light  of  the  moon  made  every 
detail  distinct.  Before  he  had  gone  far  the  opening 
of  another  little  cubby-hole  showed  dark  on  a  ledge 
of  the  moonlit  cliff,  which  was  overhung  by  the  pro- 
jecting brow  above.  Then  there  came  half  a  dozen  of 
them  close  together.  Then  the  ledge  broadened  and 
ran  inwards  in  a  softer  stratum  of  the  cliff  face,  so  that 
a  whole  row  of  little  houses  were  built  along  it.  The 
ledge  was  ten  or  twelve  feet  up  the  cliff  face,  so  that 
the  houses  could  only  have  been  approached  by  ladders, 
while  the  overhanging  cliff  brow  afforded  them  abso- 
lute protection  from  above. 

"By  George!"  he  said,  "this  must  be  the  old 
pueblo  I  've  heard  of  as  being  up  here  in  the  mountain; 
they  say  the  Aztecs  used  to  live  here  before  the  days  of 
Montezuma. ' ' 

The  ledge  ceased  presently,  and  here  there  were 
rooms  absolutely  carved  out  of  the  living  rock  itself. 
Nor  were  these  aloft  in  air  like  the  former  ones  ;  it 
seemed  as  if  the  people  who  had  evolved  the  idea  of 
building  their  houses  like  swallows'  nests  under  the 
eaves,  for  security,  had  gained  confidence  and  come 
boldly  down  to  the  level  of  the  ground.  He  looked 
into  one,  and  struck  a  match  ;  it  was  just  a  little  square 
room  with  a  doorway,  all  cut  out  of  solid  rock.  The 
floor  was  bare  rock  too.  "  L,ots  of  cheap  labour  going 
when  they  made  houses  like  that,"  he  said.  "  There 
must  have  been  a  whole  heap  of  folks  living  here  once. ' ' 

Farther  on  there  were  the  remains  of  stone  houses 
built  on  the  ground,  close  to,  or  against,  the  cliff  face. 
"  Thick  as  bees  they  must  have  been,"  he  said;  "  I  'd 


A  Prehistoric   Hearth  333 

no  sort  of  idea  there  had  been  such  a  vast  number  of 
them.  It  must  have  been  a  regular  swannery  of 
Indians." 

He  went  on  half  a  mile  or  more,  and  the  buildings 
were  continuous  either  on  the  ground  or  upon  the 
ledge,  which  ran  right  along.  They  were  almost  all 
square  or  oblong  in  plan,  but  here  and  there  at  inter- 
vals appeared  one  that  was  round  and  of  a  sort  of  bee- 
hive form.  These  were  old  estufas.  "  I  've  a  good 
mind  to  camp  here, ' '  he  said,  ' '  and  see  what  this  place 
looks  like  by  daylight.  I  never  had  the  least  notion 
there  was  so  much  of  it.  Some  of  those  scientific  chaps 
at  the  Smithsonian  ought  to  be  told  about  this.  I  bet 
it  's  the  oldest  thing  in  the  United  States." 

He  stopped  before  one  of  the  ancient  cave-dwellings. 
It  was  not  one  of  those  excavated  entirely  out  of  the 
rock,  for  here  there  was  a  natural  cave  on  the  ground 
level.  Across  the  front  of  this  a  wall  had  been  built, 
enclosing  the  space  behind  it  as  a  dwelling-room,  but 
the  wall  had  been  partly  broken  down  by  time.  In 
the  angle  where  the  wall  joined  the  rock  there  was  a 
fireplace.  Close  by,  an  external  house  had  been  built 
as  a  sort  of  lean-to  against  the  rock  face,  with  a  roof 
supported  by  beams  that  had  now  fallen  in. 

"  I  guess  I  '11  just  move  in  and  take  possession,"  he 
said  as  he  looked  at  the  cave-dwelling,  and,  suiting  the 
action  to  the  word,  he  stripped  the  saddle  from  his 
horse  and  put  it  inside,  and  then  led  him  out  in  the 
meadow  to  picket  him. 

He  returned  to  where  he  had  left  his  saddle  ;  he 
could  see  by  the  moonlight  the  fallen  roof-beams  of  the 
outside  house  lying  confusedly  here  and  there.  The 
roof  had  been  of  clay,  but  this  had  all  washed  down 
and  now  was  indistinguishable  from  the  floor,  while 


334  Lone  Pine 

the  layers  of  brushwood  that  had  supported  it  had 
crumbled  into  dust.  But  the  primeval  rafters  of  en- 
during pitch-pine  were  still  mostly  sound. 

Entering  the  cave-dwelling,  where  he  had  put  his 
saddle,  his  eye  was  caught  by  the  old  fireplace  ;  it  was 
still  blackened  with  the  flame  of  the  fire  that  had  so 
long  ago  been  quenched,  and  still  there  lay  visible  on 
the  hearth,  cold  and  black,  the  dead  embers  that  had 
once  been  live  and  glowing  coals  of  fire. 

"  I  wonder  how  many  centuries  it  is  since  those  were 
live  coals?  "  he  said.  "  I  've  heard  say  the  old,  old 
Aztecs  used  to  live  up  north  here  in  these  deserted 
mountain  pueblos  and  cliff-dwellings  before  ever  they 
went  south  and  built  the  City  of  Mexico.  And  they  'd 
been  living  down  there,  so  I  've  heard,  for  ages  and 
ages  before  Cortes  came  along  and  slaughtered  Monte- 
zuma.  Why,  it  might  be  a  thousand  years  since  this 
place  was  inhabited." 

He  looked  at  the  dead  embers  with  a  fascinated  gaze. 
To  him,  who  considered  a  mining  camp  of  two  years' 
duration  quite  old,  who  was  himself  one  of  the  rest- 
less spirits  who  were  busy  making  history,  the  history 
of  the  New  West,  the  prehistoric  hearth  came  with  a 
strange  appeal. 

"  I  '11  rekindle  it,"  he  said  ;  "  I  will  so  ;  I  'd  like  to 
warm  my  hands  at  a  fire  that  's  a  thousand  years  old 
maybe.  Those  old  rafters  out  there  will  do  well  to 
burn."  He  stepped  round  to  the  ruined  house.  "  I 
wonder  if  there  's  any  snakes  hiding  among  those 
fallen  stones?"  He  struck  a  match  once  more,  and 
looked  round  in  likely  corners  and  crevices,  but  no 
sign  of  any  reptile  appeared  ;  he  dragged  out  a  couple 
of  rafters  and  carried  them  in  and  placed  their  ends  in 
the  fireplace  ;  he  broke  with  a  heavy  stone  another  one 


A  Prehistoric   Hearth  335 

that  had  partly  rotted,  and  got  some  splinters  out  or 
the  sounder  part  and  soon  had  a.  fire  going.  He 
watched  the  dead  embers  catch  and  glow  red  from  the 
blaze. 

"  Who  'd  have  thought  in  all  those  hundreds  ot 
years,"  he  said,  "  as  they  lay  dead,  that  they  'd  ever 
jump  to  life  again  in  one  moment  like  this."  His 
words  pointed  to  the  glowing  coals,  but  he  was  think- 
ing of  the  poor  shell  of  a  body  that  an  hour  before  he 
had  committed  to  the  ground.  Who  could  believe  that 
it  might  ever  live  again  ?  and  yet — some  folks  said  so. 

The  fate  of  that  lonely  man  had  moved  him  deeply, 
more  deeply  by  far  than  he  was  conscious  of,  for  it  was 
the  type  of  what  his  own  was  like  to  be,  to  fall  un- 
friended and  alone  in  some  remote  ravine  of  a  nameless 
range.  He  thought  of  the  pocket-book  he  had  rescued, 
and  drew  it  out.  The  fire  blazed  brightly  now,  and  he 
could  read  by  it  easily.  The  notes  were  casual  jottings 
— entries  of  cash  expended — notes  of  an  arrangement 
with  another  man  to  meet  and  mine  together — the 
brand  of  a  horse  purchased,  and  the  price  set  down, 
eighty-five  dollars — Winchester  cartridges,  two  and  a 
half  dollars. 

"  That  's  clear  enough  evidence  that  he  had  a  Win- 
chester," commented  Stephens;  "all  right,  then; 
practically  that  settles  it.  He  's  the  man,  sure,  those 
curbed  Navajos  joked  about  killing  with  his  own  gun. 
Hullo  !  what  's  this  ?  Mahletonkwa's  name,  as  I  'm 
alive  !  "  He  rapidly  ran  his  eye  over  a  page  of  close 
writing.  <f  Why,  he  's  got  it  all  down  that  Mahle- 
tonkwa  brought  him  up  here  to  show  him  a  silver  mine, 
and  then  treacherously  left  him,  and  that  then  he  was 
attacked  by  Indians;  he  does  n't  say  what  Indians, 
poor  beggar  ;  but  you  bet  I  know  who  they  were. 


336  Lone  Pine 

Here  's  his  last  entry.  '  I  've  stood  them  off  now  for 
six  hours,  and  if  they  don't  get  me  before  night,  maybe 
I  "11  make  the  riffle  and  get  away.'  It  was  after  he'd 
written  that  that  they  wounded  him  and  he  surrendered 
to  them,  and  they  had  their  little  game  with  him,  the 
sons  of  guns  !  But  that 's  their  way;  cruelty  and  cun- 
ning are  bred  in  their  bones.  They  've  been  doing 
things  like  that  for  a  good  deal  more  than  a  thousand 
years,  I  guess,  arid  they  've  kind  of  got  into  the  habit 
of  it.  But  I  'd  like  to  pay  them  out  all  the  same. 
It 's  that  Mahletonkwa's  band  are  the  guilty  ones,  and 
I  dare  swear  to  it.  Well,  we  '11  see.  I  've  given  them 
no  amnesty  for  this.  We '11  see." 

He  sat  there,  quite  still,  in  a  fierce  and  moody  silence. 
He  was  so  still  that  a  rattlesnake  in  the  stones  behind 
him  pushed  his  flat,  venomous  head  out  of  a  crevice, 
and  looked  at  him  for  quite  a  long  time,  and  then  drew 
it  in  again  and  retired.  "  I/eave  me  alone  and  I  '11 
leave  you  alone,"  was  the  snake's  motto.  He  had  no 
wrongs  to  avenge. 

Unconscious  of  this  silent  observer  of  his  reverie,  the 
American  allowed  himself  to  indulge  for  a  while  in 
wild,  fanciful  dreams  of  revenge  for  the  murder  of  his 
fellow-countryman  ;  then  he  pulled  himself  up  short. 

"  I  'm  not  really  called  upon  to  punish  them,"  he 
said,  "  and  I  won't  think  about  it.  It  only  makes  me 
angry,  and  I  hate  to  be  angry  and  do  nothing."  He 
raised  himself  up,  moved  the  ends  of  the  burning  rafters 
farther  into  the  fireplace,  and  the  flames  blazed  up 
freshly. 

"  Kit  Carson  used  to  be  mighty  careful  about  look- 
ing into  the  camp-fire  at  night,"  he  said.  "  He  always 
used  to  sit  well  away  from  the  blaze,  with  his  eyes  to- 
wards the  darkness,  so  that  if  anything  happened  he 


A   Prehistoric   Hearth  337 

could  see  with  them  at  once,  without  having  to  wait  till 
they  had  got  accustomed  to  it.  But  then  there  was 
always  war  going  on,  and  always  danger,  when  he  used 
to  be  around  in  this  part  of  the  country.  I  've  never 
felt  shy  about  sitting  by  a  camp-fire  up  in  this  sierra, 
and  there  aint  no  reason  that  I  know  of  why  I  should. ' ' 

He  rose  and  straightened  himself  up  to  his  full  height, 
and  stretched  out  his  arms  as  a  relief  after  sitting  so 
still.  ' '  I  might  as  well  take  a  look  round,  though, ' '  he 
said,  "and  see  if  that  horse  is  all  right.  I  don't  know 
his  tricks,  and  he  might  tangle  himself  up  in  his  picket- 
rope."  He  strolled  out  to  where  he  had  fastened  him, 
and  made  sure  that  he  was  all  right.  As  he  turned  to 
come  back  again,  he  saw  something  on  the  ground  that 
caught  the  fire-light  and  shone  like  a  jewel.  He 
stooped  to  pick  it  up.  It  was  an  obsidian  arrowhead. 

"  Volcanic  glass,"  said  the  miner, — expert  as  he  was 
in  minerals, — critically  turning  it  over  and  over  in  his 
fingers,  ' '  and  most  beautifully  chipped.  This  is  a  piece 
of  real  high-class  ancient  Indian  work.  Now,  I  wonder 
if  that  arrow  belonged  to  one  of  those  old  Aztec  pueblo 
folks,  or  if  it  was  one  shot  at  them  by  some  wild  Indian. 
The  wild  Indians  were  enemies  of  the  house-people 
then,  same  as  now." 

His  imagination  took  fire  as  he  looked  at  this  relic 
of  ancient  strife.  The  long  procession  of  the  centuries 
unrolled  itself  before  his  mind's  eye,  and  he  beheld  the 
secular  struggle  for  life  of  tribe  against  tribe.  Those 
old  pueblo  builders,  cultivators  of  corn,  house-folk,  had 
always  been  at  odds  with  their  nomad  brethren,  the 
hunters  of  the  wild  wood  and  the  plains  ;  yet  genera- 
tion after  generation,  they  had  gone  on  being  born, 
growing  up,  marrying,  and  begetting  a  new  generation 
to  succeed  them,  and  passing  away  either  in  battle 


338  Lone  Pine 

for  their  little  community  or  peacefully  by  their  own 
hearth.  This  fire-blackened,  clay-plastered  angle  of 
the  wall,  to  what  unending  succession  of  house-mothers 
and  house-fathers  did  it  not  speak  ?  He  looked  at  it 
with  a  sort  of  reverence.  The  flickering  light  of  the 
flames,  rekindled  by  him,  alien  successor  as  he  was  of 
those  ancient  folk,  lit  up  every  detail  of  the  surface. 
In  places  the  clay  daubed  on  there  so  many  centuries 
ago  looked  as  fresh  as  if  it  had  been  done  last  year. 
Here  and  there  he  could  see  the  very  finger-marks  of 
the  woman  who  had  plastered  it  ;  for  among  the  In- 
dians this  was  ever  the  task  of  the  women,  as  he  knew 
very  well.  Yes,  and,  by  George  !  there  in  one  spot, 
low  down,  was  the  handprint  of  a  tiny  child  in  the 
plaster  ;  the  little  one  had  been  playing  beside  its 
mother,  and  had  stuck  its  hand  against  the  wall  while 
the  clay  was  wet.  A  strange  emotion  struck  through 
him  at  the  sight.  It  was  as  if  the  little  hand  had 
reached  out  to  him  across  the  years  and  touched  his 
own.  The  fire  he  had  kindled  on  this  cold  hearth 
seemed  like  a  sort  of  altar  flame,  in  memory  of  the 
love  that  had  once  made  this  little  abode  a  sacred 
place. 

Like  a  flash  it  came  across  his  mind  that  this  was 
what  he  had  blindly  sacrificed  during  all  these  long 
years  of  his  wanderings — the  joys  of  home  ;  the  sweet 
domesticities  of  wife  and  child.  He  knew  them  not  ; 
aloof,  solitary,  self-contained,  he  had  coldly  held  him- 
self outside  the  circle  of  all  that  was  best  in  life. 
Why  ?  To  what  end  ?  For  the  sake  of  phantom 
gold  ;  for  the  sake  of  a  visionary  fortune  which  he 
might  never  touch  ;  for  the  sake  of  being  able  to  build, 
some  distant,  day  a  fancied  home  away  back  there  in 
the  States.  It  was  all  a  dream.  Ten  of  the  best  years 


A   Prehistoric   Hearth  339 

of  his  life  had  gone  in  the  vain  effort.  Ten  more  might 
go  as  easily  and  as  futilely.  And  then  !  OL,D  AGE! 
He  saw  it  all  now  ;  and  now  it  was  no  imaginary 
shadow-wife — dim,  vague,  and  unsubtantial — that  his 
heart  went  out  to  ;  it  was  she,  the  real,  living,  breath- 
ing creature  of  flesh  and  blood  that  he  had  played  with 
and  talked  to  ;  that  he  had  rescued  in  her  trouble,  and 
restored  to  her  parents  ;  she  whose  sweet  eyes  met  his 
with  a  certain  demand.  With  a  rush  it  came  over  him 
that  she  was  what  he  needed  ;  that  he  wanted  to  make 
her  happy,  and  that  he  must  do  it  by  making  her  his 
own.  He  was  amazed  at  his  own  blindness  and  hard- 
ness of  heart.  Was  he  too  late  ?  Could  he  have  missed 
his  chance  ?  No,  no  ;  not  that  !  But  he  would  lose  no 
time.  He  knew  now  what  he  must  say  to  her,  and  the 
quicker  he  did  it  the  better.  With  a  joyful  sense  of 
anticipation  he  saw  himself  already  at  her  side,  pouring 
into  her  ear  the  tale  of  his  loneliness  and  his  love.  He 
sprang  to  his  feet  at  the  thought,  eager  to  start.  As 
he  rose  to  his  full  height  there  was  a  deafening  bang 
close  to  his  right  ear,  a  blinding  flash,  and  the  burning 
breath  of  gunpowder  scorched  his  cheek.  Some  mur- 
derer had  fired  at  him  from  a  yard  off ! 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
THE  SNAKE'S  VERDICT 

IN  that  desperate  moment  Stephens  felt  that  he  was 
respited  as  by  a  miracle.  The  bullet  had  missed 
him.  He  dropped  his  right  hand  on  to  the  wall  over 
which  the  weapon  had  been  fired,  and  clearing  it  with 
a  mighty  bound,  lit  right  on  top  of  someone  recocking 
a  discharged  pistol.  His  eyes,  dazzled  by  the  fire  glare, 
saw  nothing,  but  he  grappled  him  by  the  feel  on  the 
instant  ;  with  one  powerful  twist  of  his  body  he  whirled 
his  opponent  off  his  legs  and  flung  him  to  the  ground, 
going  down  with  him  himself  and  falling  heavily  upon 
him.  The  Indian — he  knew  him  for  an  Indian  as  he 
grappled  with  him  by  the  blanket  he  wore — felt  like  a 
child  in  his  grip.  He  seized  him  by  the  throat  with 
the  left  hand  and  choked  him,  his  right  holding  the 
left  arm  of  the  other  and  pinning  him  to  the  ground. 
What  he  had  to  fear  now  was  that  the  free  right  arm 
would  deal  him  some  deadly  blow  with  knife  or  pistol, 
and  he  tightened  his  grasp  on  the  muscular  throat  to 
choke  the  life  out  of  him.  Then  he  suddenly  realised 
that  his  foe  was  mastered,  and  he  lifted  his  weight 
partly  off  his  chest,  still,  however,  kneeling  on  him 
with  one  knee  and  bearing  him  down  with  his  hands. 

And  now  his  eyes  were  growing  accustomed  to  the 
dark,  and  he  could  distinguish  the  features  of  the  man 

340 


The  Snake's  Verdict  341 

under  him.  "By  George!"  he  cried,  "but  it  's 
Felipe.  Why,  you  murderous  young  cub,  what  devil- 
ment are  you  up  to  now  ?  ' ' 

But  the  Indian  youth  lay  helpless  under  his  knee, 
gasping,  and  made  no  answer.  That  strangling  grasp 
on  his  throat  had  nearly  finished  him  off. 

Still  holding  him  down,  Stephens  ran  his  eyes  around 
to  see  if  other  foes  were  near.  The  moon  was  very  low 
now,  but  its  level  rays  cast  sufficient  light  to  allow  him 
to  discern  that  there  was  no  enemy  visible  anywhere. 
He  listened  intently,  but  no  sound  came  to  him  except 
the  laboured  breathing  of  the  prostrate  Indian.  He 
longed  for  Faro.  "  If  I  'd  only  got  you  along,  old 
man,"  thought  he,  "  this  young  devil  would  never 
have  been  able  to  get  the  drop  on  me  the  way  he  did  ; 
and  now  you  'd  be  able  to  tell  me  whether  there  were 
any  more  mean  hounds  like  him  laying  for  me.  I 
wonder  if  there  are  any  more  around  ?  ' '  For  several 
minutes  he  remained  motionless  like  this,  but  there 
was  no  sign  of  anyone  to  succour  the  fallen  man.  The 
discharged  pistol  was  lying  on  the  ground  within  arm's 
length.  He  reached  out  and  picked  it  up,  his  left  hand 
and  knee  still  firmly  pressing  his  antagonist  against 
the  ground.  He  looked  the  revolver  over  ;  it  was  a 
good  weapon,  he  could  tell  that  much,  but  he  could 
not  recognise  it.  He  had  mended  many  weapons  for 
the  Santiago  people  during  the  winter,  and  the  thought 
had  occurred  to  him  that  he  might  chance  to  know  this 
one,  but  on  examination  he  did  not  remember  to  have 
ever  set  eyes  on  it  before. 

Felipe,  under  his  knee,  lay  perfectly  still,  and  his 
breathing  was  becoming  more  regular.  Laying  the 
pistol  down  behind  him,  Stephens  felt  for  the  boy's 
belt,  and  unbuckled  it  and  dragged  it  from  under  him  ; 


342  Lone  Pine 

it  carried  a  knife  in  its  sheath  as  well  as  the  holster  for 
the  pistol.  He  put  these  behind  him  likewise,  away 
from  his  prisoner's  hand.  Again  he  paused  and  listened 
for  the  sound  of  possible  enemies  approaching  ;  but  he 
could  hear  nothing  whatever.  He  felt  his  own  re- 
volver, to  make  sure  it  was  all  right  in  its  place,  and 
he  thought  of  his  Winchester  lying  in  its  case  by  his 
saddle,  the  other  side  of  the  wall.  If  an  enemy  were 
to  sneak  up  and  grab  that,  he,  Stephens,  would  be  in  a 
fix.  He  took  his  weight  off  his  knee  for  a  moment,  so 
as  to  lighten  the  pressure  on  Felipe's  body.  "  Who  's 
with  you,  you  young  ruffian  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No  one,  Sooshiuamo,"  replied  the  boy.  The 
breath  was  fast  coming  back  to  his  lungs  ;  he  spoke 
audibly,  but  with  difficulty. 

"  Don't  call  me  Sooshiuamo,  you  wretch  !  Do  you 
mean  to  say  you  're  here  all  alone  ?  If  you  lie  to  me 
now  I  '11  kill  you  right  here." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Felipe,  "  I  'm  alone." 

Stephens  hesitated  ;  he  knew  Felipe  well  enough  to 
judge,  by  the  way  he  spoke,  that  he  was  telling  the 
truth  ;  but  he  was  much  puzzled  to  account  for  this 
murderous  attack.  Various  theories  flitted  through 
his  brain.  He  had  not  a  single  enemy  in  the  pueblo 
that  he  knew  of,  the  cacique  perhaps  excepted  ;  but 
the  cacique,  of  all  men,  was  the  most  unlikely  to  select 
Felipe  to  do  this  trick.  Could  this  attack  be  intended 
as  a  punishment  on  him  for  violating  some  old  super- 
stition of  theirs,  by  making  a  fire  here  in  the  ruined 
pueblo  ?  Such  a  thing  might  be  ample  justification 
for  murdering  him,  from  their  point  of  view,  as  he  had 
reason  to  know.  Their  behaviour  over  the  blasting 
of  the  ditch  was  proof  enough  of  how  strongly  they 
could  feel  about  things  that  shocked  their  religious 


The  Snake's  Verdict  343 

susceptibilities.  But  how  could  they  have  known  of 
his  crime  when  he  had  only  found  the  spot  an  hour 
ago  ?  He  determined  to  cross-question  his  prisoner. 

"  Who  set  you  on  to  murder  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

Felipe  hesitated.     ' '  Nobody, ' '  he  said  finally. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  did  it  on  your  own 
hook  ?  "  he  asked,  incredulous. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

' '  Where  d'  you  get  that  pistol  ? ' '  Stephens  knew 
he  did  n't  own  one. 

"  I  bought  it." 

"Where?" 

"  In  San  Rerno." 

"Who  sold  it  to  you?" 

"  The  storekeeper." 

"Mr.  Backus?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

A  light  began  to  dawn  upon  Stephens.  Backus  un- 
doubtedly had  a  grudge  against  him. 

' '  Did  he  put  you  up  to  this  ?  "  he  asked. 

Felipe  was  silent. 

"  Answer  me  ;  mind  you,  your  life  's  at  stake." 

"Partly  he  did." 

' '  Partly,  you  say.    What  do  you  mean  ?   Who  else  ? ' ' 

"  Partly  myself." 

"  You  young  scallywag  !  What  did  you  want  to 
kill  me  for?" 

Felipe  hesitated,  but  he  felt  the  knee  of  the  man  who 
had  him  down  begin  to  press  harder  again.  "  Because 
of  Josefa,"  he  said,  with  evident  reluctance. 

' '  Explain  yourself,  you  idiot.  Because  of  Josefa  ? 
Why,  it  was  I  who  saved  her.  Don't  you  know  that 
much?  " 

' '  You  took  her  away, ' '  said  Felipe  sulkily. 


344  Lone  Pine 

"  Of  course  I  did,  you  ninny.  What  would  you  have 
had  me  do  ?  Leave  her  with  her  father  to  be  beaten  to 
death  ?  You  're  a  plumb  idiot." 

'  You  need  n't  have  taken  her,  though,  for  your- 
self," rejoined  the  boy. 

' '  Oh,  you  make  me  tired  ! ' '  said  Stephens  ;  "if 
that  's  all  you  've  got  to  kill  me  for,  get  up."  He  re- 
leased the  3'oung  Indian,  taking  care,  however,  to  re- 
tain possession  of  the  belt  and  pistol  and  knife.  Felipe 
scrambled  to  his  feet  rather  unsteadily. 

"  I  've  a  mind  to  boot  you  all  the  way  back  to  the 
pueblo,"  said  Stephens  disgustedly  ;  "  not  for  trying 
to  blow  the  top  of  my  head  off,  though  you  deserve  it 
for  missing  me  at  only  four  feet  away,  but  for  being 
such  a  loony  idiot  as  to  think  that.  By  Jimini  !  I 
have  n't  got  language  to  say  what  I  think  of  you. 
Why,  you — you — you  galoot !  when  did  you  ever  know 
me  go  to  carrying  on  with  any  of  the  women  in  the 
pueblo  ?  You  ought  to  know  me  better  by  this  time." 

Felipe  looked  abashed. 

"  You  all  but  did  for  yourself,"  he  went  on, — "  that 
is,  if  you  'd  only  known  it  ;  and  I  'm  not  sure  that  you 
have  n't  now.  Why,  I  took  her  over  from  her  family 
thinking  to  give  her  to  you,  but  I  'm  dashed  if  I  know 
whether  I  'd  ought  to  now.  There  's  too  many  blanked 
fools  in  this  world  already  to  make  it  worth  while  to 
help  to  set  more  of  'em  going.  However,  we  '11  see 
what  she  's  got  to  say  about  you.  If  she  has  a  fancy 
for  marrying  an  escaped  lunatic,  I  suppose  she  '11  have 
to  have  her  way.  Come,  I  'm  going  back  to  the  fire  ; 
walk  through  that  door  there  and  we  '11  go  in.  Here, 
take  your  belt,  but  I  'm  dashed  if  you  're  to  be  trusted 
with  a  loaded  pistol  any  more  than  if  you  were  a  three- 
year-old  baby."  He  raised  the  Colt  above  his  head 


The   Snake's   Verdict  345 

and  rapidly  discharged  the  five  loaded  chambers  one 
after  another  in  the  air. 

It  was  the  report  of  those  shots  that  attracted  the  at- 
tention of  the  storekeeper  far  off  on  the  hillside.  The 
two  entered  the  cave-dwelling,  Felipe  holding  himself 
very  stiffly  as  he  moved. 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  're  stiff,"  said  the  American, 
observing  him  ;  "  I  must  have  pretty  near  squeezed  the 
life  out  of  you,  and  serves  you  right."  He  was  still 
very  angry. 

"  It  is  n't  that,"  said  Felipe,  feeling  his  dignity  as- 
sailed ;  ' '  my  shoulder  is  very  sore  ;  I  have  a  bullet 
wound  in  it. ' ' 

' '  The  mischief,  you  have, ' '  said  Stephens.  ' '  I  sup- 
pose you  got  that  from  the  cacique.  I  guess  it  must 
have  hurt  you  some  when  I  was  mauling  you  just 
now."  His  voice  softened  a  bit.  "  Of  course  I 
could  n't  know  about  that";  he  was  actually  apolo- 
gising already  to  his  would-be  murderer.  "  Here, 
bring  it  to  the  light  of  the  fire  and  let  me  see  it." 
Felipe  squatted  down  with  his  right  shoulder  towards 
the  blaze.  "  H'm,  yes,  an  ugly  place,  rather,"  ex- 
amining it  carefully,  "  but  it  's  been  well  done  up  "; 
he  smelt  it,  "  you  've  got  that  carbolic  on  it ;  good 
stuff  for  a  gunshot  wound,  in  my  opinion.  Say, 
where  d'  you  get  any  round  here  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Backus,"  answered  the  boy. 

"  Oh,  from  him.  Seems  to  me  he  's  been  having  a 
good  deal  to  say  to  you  lately.  Who  dressed  this  for 
you  ?  ' '  He  replaced  the  bandage. 

"  Mr.  Backus." 

"  Well,  he  understands  gunshot  wounds  pretty  well, 
but  you  take  my  advice  and  don't  have  any  more  to  do 
with  him  for  the  present.  He  aint  good  company  for 


346  Lone  Pine 

young  gentlemen  with  no  more  brains  than  you — 
Hullo  !  what  's  that  ?  Did  n't  you  hear  something 
out  yonder  ?  ' ' 

A  faint  cry  appeared  to  come  from  a  distance. 

"  It  sounds  like  a  man,"  said  Felipe. 

The  cry  was  repeated  ;  it  seemed  like  the  word 
"Help!" 

"  Come  on,"  cried  Stephens,  snatching  his  Win- 
chester from  the  case  and  running  into  the  darkness  in 
the  direction  from  which  the  sound  seemed  to  come. 
Felipe  followed  him. 

"  Help  !  "  came  again  more  distinctly. 

In  another  minute  they  were  on  the  spot  where  the 
body  of  a  man  lay  writhing  on  the  ground  face  down- 
wards. Stephens  stooped  and  raised  him,  and  beheld 
his  enemy,  Backus. 

He  let  him  drop  on  the  ground  again  as  if  he  had 
unexpectedly  picked  up  a  snake,  and  sprang  back 
grasping  his  rifle  at  the  ready.  Could  this  be  some 
infernal  trap  ?  Had  Felipe  been  deceiving  him  ? 

' '  Did  you  lie  to  me  ?  ' '  There  was  a  dangerous  ring 
in  his  voice.  ' '  I  asked  you  if  you  were  alone,  and  you 
said  you  were,  and  here  's  the  man  who  's  your  con- 
federate, by  your  own  confession." 

"  Before  God,  I  did  n't  know  he  was  here,"  cried 
the  boy  very  earnestly.  "  What  's  the  matter  with 
him  ?  He  's  dying." 

"  He  deserves  to  die,"  said  the  prospector,  looking 
down  at  him. 

"Whiskey,"  moaned  Backus  brokenly;  "I  'm 
snake-bit." 

"Snake-bit,  are  you?"  said  the  prospector,  still 
suspicious.  "  Well,  if  you  are  that  's  rather  rough  on 
you.  Where  are  you  struck  ? ' ' 


The  Snake's  Verdict  347 

"  In  the  face,"  said  the  wretched  man.  "  For  God's 
sake  help  me;  this  pain  's  maddening.  I  'm  going  to 
die." 

"  Lift  his  head  up,  Felipe,"  said  Stephens,  "  and 
let  me  see  the  place.  Great  Scot  !  I  should  say  you 
were  snake-bit,  and  powerful  bad,  too,"  he  added,  as 
the  young  Indian  lifted  the  head  of  the  fallen  man  and 
turned  it  so  as  to  show  the  face.  It  was  a  ghastly 
sight  !  The  whole  of  the  left  cheek  and  side  of  the 
head  were  swollen  out  of  all  recognition,  and  the  puffed 
and  strained  skin  was  so  discoloured  that  it  looked  like 
a  mass  of  livid  bruises. 

His  first  suspicion  had  been  that  the  cunning  store- 
keeper had  set  Felipe  on  him,  and  then,  finding  that 
the  Indian  had  failed  in  his  murderous  attack,  had 
adopted  the  heartless  but  too  common  ruse  of  sham- 
ming sick,  in  order  to  get  his  antagonist  at  a  disad- 
vantage. Stephens  had  sprung  backward,  and  was 
standing  now  with  his  Winchester,  ready  at  any  mo- 
ment to  pump  lead  into  his  would-be  murderers  ;  but 
the  awful  condition  of  his  enemy  was  proof  sufficient 
that  there  was  no  sham  about  this  case.  Holding  bis 
rifle  in  one  hand,  he  advanced,  and  with  the  other 
aided  Felipe  to  raise  the  fallen  man  to  a  sitting  posture. 

;<  When  did  it  happen  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Just  now." 

The  stricken  man's  breathing  was  painfully  laboured, 
and  he  spoke  with  extreme  difficulty,  so  that  it  was 
hard  to  understand  him. 

' '  Have  you  any  whiskey  ?  ' '  Stephens  inquired. 

"No." 

"  Have  you  done  anything  for  it  ?  " 

"No." 

'  There  's  nothing  you  could  have  done  that  I  know 


348  Lone  Pine 

of, ' '  said  Stephens  ;  "  I  was  thinking  whether  I  could 
try  to  lance  it  for  you,  but  I  'm  afraid  of  cutting  an 
artery.  Of  course,  Felipe,  it  is  n't  possible  that  you 
could  have  any  whiskey  ?  ' ' 

"  No,  indeed,  Sooshiuamo, "  said  the  boy  ;  "  how 
could  I?" 

"  No,  no,  of  course  you  could  n't,"  said  the  pro- 
spector ;  "  and  I  have  n't  any  neither.  If  we  had  a 
quart  of  whiskey  here  we  might  be  able  to  save  him. 
The  only  thing  we  can  do  is  to  keep  him  moving. 
L,ook  here,  Felipe,  you  lift  him  under  the  right  shoul- 
der and  I  '11  lift  him  under  the  left  ;  we  must  walk  him 
around.  Now  then,  up  !  "  Between  them  they  raised 
the  unhappy  man  to  his  feet. 

"  Come  on,"  cried  Stephens,  "  hold  him  up.  Steady 
now." 

They  walked  forward  as  steadily  as  they  could  in  the 
direction  of  the  cave-dwelling,  Backus  staggering  along 
between  them.  His  legs  went  through  the  motions  of 
walking  almost  mechanically,  but  his  weight  rested 
entirely  on  his  two  supporters,  and  he  was  a  heavy 
man  to  carry. 

"  Stick  to  it,  Felipe,"  said  Stephens,  "  it  's  the  only 
chance  for  him.  Keep  him  going."  They  reached 
the  cave.  "  Set  him  down  here  a  minute  before  the 
fire,"  said  Stephens,  putting  aside  his  rifle,  and  with 
both  hands  lowering  the  patient  to  the  ground,  after 
spreading  his  blanket  for  him  to  lie  on.  Backus  was 
in  a  state  of  appalling  collapse  ;  the  swelling  increased 
so  rapidly  that  it  seemed  as  if  his  head  must  burst ;  the 
inflamed  skin  was  horribly  mottled  with  red  and  green 
and  yellow,  and  a  cold  sweat  broke  out  on  him.  Ste- 
phens knelt  beside  him  and  felt  his  pulse  ;  it  was  rapid, 
fluttering,  and  feeble. 


The  Snake's  Verdict  349 

Felipe  looked  on,  awestruck  and  speechless.  That 
the  prospector  should  try  to  preserve  the  life  of  his 
enemy  did  not  appeal  to  him  at  all  ;  it  seemed  to  him 
only  one  more  of  the  unaccountable  things  these 
Americans  did.  But  the  frightful  state  of  the  store- 
keeper, and  the  agonising  pains  he  was  suffering  were 
the  work  of  the  dread  reptile  he  had  been  taught  to 
reverence  from  his  earliest  days.  The  gods  were  angry 
with  Backus,  and  this  was  their  doing. 

Stephens  felt  that  the  stricken  man's  hands  were 
growing  deadly  cold.  He  sprang  up.  "  Come  on, 
Felipe!  "  he  exclaimed,  rising  quickly  again  to  his  feet. 
"  He 's  at  the  last  gasp,  I  think.  We  must  try  to  walk 
him  up  and  down  again.  It  's  the  one  thing  we  can 
do." 

They  raised  him  to  his  feet  once  more,  Stephens  put- 
ting his  right  arm  round  his  waist,  and  steadying  him 
with  the  other,  and,  Felipe  aiding,  they  walked  him  to 
and  fro  on  the  meadow,  trying  to  counteract  the  fatal 
lethargy  produced  by  the  bite. 

"  He  must  have  got  an  awful  dose  of  poison  into 
him,"  said  Stephens,  as  they  struggled  along  with 
their  now  nearly  unconscious  burden.  "  I  guess  it 
must  have  been  a  snake  that  had  been  lying  up  for  the 
'winter,  and  had  only  just  come  out  now  the  warm 
weather  's  beginning.  They  're  worst  of  all  then  ; 
their  poison-bag  has  a  full  charge  in  it." 

But  Felipe  made  no  answer  ;  he  was  not  affected  by 
the  scientific  question  as  to  how  many  drops  of  venom 
there  might  be  in  a  serpent's  poison-gland.  For  him 
the  question  was,  ' '  Had  the  god  struck  to  kill  ?  or 
would  he  be  content  to  punish  and  pardon  ?  "  But  as 
he  looked  at  the  lolling  head  and  dragging  limbs  of  the 
victim  he  felt  that  the  god  had  struck  to  kill. 


35O  Lone  Pine 

At  this  moment  the  moon  sank  beneath  the  horizon. 

"  I  guess  he  's  come  to  the  jumping-off  place,"  said 
Stephens,  as  Backus  sank  into  absolute  unconscious- 
ness. "  L,et  's  carry  him  right  back  to  the  fire." 

Once  more  they  laid  him  down  beside  that  prehistoric 
hearth,  and  the  ruddy  glow  lit  up  the  horrid  spectacle 
of  his  distorted  face.  They  tried  to  warm  him  and 
keep  the  life  in  him  a  little  longer  ;  but  it  was  in  vain. 
The  laboured  breath  came  slower  and  slower  ;  the 
feeble  pulse  waxed  fainter  and  fainter  ;  the  chill  hand 
of  death  was  there,  and  nought  that  they  could  do 
was  of  any  avail  ;  and  after  a  little  while  Stephens  was 
aware  that  the  thing  that  lay  in  front  of  the  fire  was 
but  a  disfigured  corpse. 

Between  them,  he  and  Felipe  raised  it,  and  laid  it  at 
one  side  of  the  dwelling,  and  covered  it  from  sight  with 
the  blanket.  When  they  returned  to  the  fire,  they 
stood  there  side  by  side  gazing  at  the  embers  in  a  long 
silence.  They  stood  as  it  were  in  the  presence  of 
death,  and  neither  the  white  man  nor  the  red  had  any 
mind  to  break  the  solemnity  of  the  scene. 

Suddenly  there  came  a  low,  rustling,  slithering 
sound  from  the  stones  in  the  corner  behind  them,  as  a 
large  snake  glided  out  across  the  floor,  and  swiftly 
vanished  into  the  darkness  without. 

Stephens  gave  an  involuntary  shudder.  '  That 
brute  must  have  been  in  the  corner  there  all  the  time  I 
was  here,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  Sooshiuamo,"  answered  Felipe  in  an  awe- 
struck voice,  "  he  was  there,  but  he  did  not  touch  you. 
Now  he  has  gone  to  tell  his  brother  who  struck 
your  enemy  that  he  is  dead.  The  snakes  must  be  your 
friends  ;  they  do  not  hurt  you  ;  they  only  kill  your 
enemies  for  you  ' ' ;  and  as  if  impelled  to  penitence  by 


The  Snake's  Verdict  351 

what  he  regarded  as  a  supernatural  warning,  he  turned 
to  the  prospector  and  poured  out  in  a  flood  a  full  con- 
fession of  all  he  had  heard  and  seen  and  suspected 
of  Backus' s  schemes,  and  of  his  dealings  with  the 
Navajos. 

Stephens  listened  aghast.  Mahletonkwa  certainly 
had  told  him  that  his  message  to  the  governor  had  been 
stopped,  but  he  had  been  loath  to  believe  that  a  white 
man  could  play  such  a  treacherous  game,  and  side  with 
savages  against  his  own  countryman.  It  was  natural 
for  the  American  to  prefer  to  think  that  the  Navajo 
had  lied  ;  but,  if  Felipe  spoke  true,  the  wretched  man 
who  lay  dead  before  them  had  really  and  actually  sold 
him  into  the  hands  of  the  Navajos.  Then  arose  the 
question — what  had  been  his  object  ?  There  might  be 
more  dangers  around,  more  plots  that  Felipe  knew  no- 
thing of?  "I  never  liked  him,  it  's  true,  but  why 
should  he  play  such  a  mean  trick  merely  for  that  ?  If 
he  really  did  destroy  my  letters  asking  for  the  soldiers, 
he  must  have  done  it  that  very  hour  that  I  gave  them 
to  him.  It  was  n't  till  the  next  day  that  I  knocked  him 
into  the  ditch,  so  he  could  n't  have  done  it  out  of  re- 
venge for  that  blow  I  gave  him.  I  wonder,  now,  if 
he  could  have  kept  a  grudge  against  me  for  that  old 
wound  at  Apache  Canon  ?  Some  folks  find  it  mighty 
hard  to  forgive." 

"  Well,"  he  continued  aloud,  addressing  Felipe,  "  I 
sha'n't  bear  any  malice  against  you,  young  'un.  I 
reckon  that — well — that  fellow  just  used  you,  and  you 
aint  much  more  to  blame  than  an  idiot — pity  you  had  n't 
got  more  sense  ;  but  that  's  enough — I  '11  never  think 
of  it  again." 

Felipe  looked  up  at  him  with  dumb  gratitude  in  his 
eyes. 


352  Lone  Pine 

"  And  now,"  said  the  prospector,  when  the  mis- 
understanding between  them  had  been  thus  settled, 
"  the  morning  star  is  up,  and  it  will  be  dawn  directly. 
We  must  take  the  body  down  to  San  Remo  that  it  may 
be  buried  by  his  own  people. ' ' 

He  went  out  to  the  meadow  and  brought  up  the 
horse  and  put  the  saddle  on  him.  With  no  small  diffi- 
culty they  lifted  the  corpse  on  to  it  and  made  it  fast 
there,  and  then,  with  Felipe  at  the  horse's  head,  and 
Stephens  holding  the  sad  burden  in  place,  they  made 
their  way  back  to  the  trail,  and  so  down  once  more 
from  the  sierra  to  the  village. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

AUU>  ACQUAINTANCE 

THE  sun  was  already  well  up  in  the  eastern  sky 
when  the  strange  funeral  procession  entered  San 
Remo.  The  news  of  the  event  spread  like  wildfire, 
and  friendly  hands  were  ready  to  aid  Stephens  in  lift- 
ing down  the  dead  man's  corpse  at  the  door  of  what 
yesterday  had  been  his  home,  while  kind-hearted  wo- 
men full  of  sympathy  went  into  the  house  to  break  the 
tidings  to  her  whose  hearth  was  made  desolate.  Then 
a  dreadful  sound  broke  upon  his  ears  ;  it  was  the  cry 
of  agony  that  told  that  the  wife  knew  that  she  was  a 
wife  no  more  but  a  widow.  It  was  a  piercing  cry, 
that  wounded  the  hearts  of  all  who  heard  it,  for  the 
ring  of  mortal  pain  was  there. 

Unaccustomed  to  all  violent  appeals  to  feeling,  Ste- 
phens found  this  heart-rending  wail  unbearable.  Duty 
to  the  dead  claimed  him  no  longer,  and  he  must  hurry 
away. 

"Thanks,  friends,"  he  said  to  the  Mexicans  who 
had  aided  him  to  lift  the  body  down,  "  a  thousand 
thanks  for  your  kindness  in  this  aid.  Adios,  amigos,  I 
must  be  going.  Adios."  He  led  the  horse,  now 
lightened  of  his  burden,  away  from  the  door,  Felipe 
following.  He  could  not  mount  in  the  saddle  which 

Death  had  just  vacated;  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  it  would 
23 

353 


354  Lone  Pine 

be  a  sort  of  sacrilege.  That  agonised  cry  of  the  be- 
reaved woman  haunted  him  still.  Loathing  Backus 
though  he  did,  this  evidence  that  to  one  soul,  at  least, 
in  this  incomprehensible  world,  he  had  been  all  in  all, 
struck  home  to  him.  Likely  enough  the  man  had  been 
good  to  her,  scoundrel  though  he  was  ;  but  what  an 
amazing  thing  must  be  this  bond  of  marriage  that 
could  thus  link  heart  to  heart,  even  when  one  of  the 
pair  was  no  better  than  a  treacherous  coward. 

At  Don  Nepomuceno's  he  found  Manuelita,  but  not 
alone.  Not  only  were  her  aunt  and  Juana  there — that 
was  of  course — but  the  visits  of  interested  friends  had 
not  yet  ceased,  seeing  that  everyone  naturally  wanted 
to  hear  the  exciting  story  from  her  own  lips.  And 
now  it  came  the  American's  turn  to  entertain  the 
company  ;  while  food  was  being  hospitably  prepared 
for  him,  he  had  to  come  in  and  sit  down  among  the 
ladies,  and  give  some  account  of  what  had  befallen  him 
while  searching  for  the  bones  of  the  murdered  pro- 
spector. He  passed  over  Felipe's  attempt  on  his  life  in 
silence  and  merely  spoke  of  having  met  him  at  the  old 
ruined  pueblo,  where  they  heard  through  the  darkness 
the  cry  of  the  dying  victim  of  the  rattlesnake,  and 
vainly  endeavoured  to  help  him  to  resist  the  fatal 
venom.  He  told  the  tale  at  length,  and  with  a  free- 
dom and  fulness  of  detail  that  surprised  himself.  But 
all  the  time  there  was  one  thing  present  before  his 
mind,  and  that  was  the  very  thing  that  he  could 
whisper  no  word  of  to  the  eager  circle  around  him  ;  it 
must  be  kept  for  one  and  one  only  ;  but  ever  as  he 
talked  his  eyes  sought  those  of  the  Mexican  girl,  not 
once  but  many  times,  and  they  spoke  to  her  silently 
and  ardently. 

' '  What  is  it  that  has  come  to  him  ?  ' '  she  asked  her- 


Auld  Acquaintance  355 

self.  ' '  Here  is  a  look  in  his  eyes  to-day  that  never  was 
there  before.  Perhaps  he  has  a  secret  to  keep — or  to 
tell ;  perhaps  he  has  found  that  mine  that  he  is  always 
searching  for. ' '  She  blushed  and  looked  down  as  she 
caught  his  glance  flashed  quickly  upon  her.  Her  heart 
told  her  that  he  had  a  secret  to  tell — but  that  it  did  not 
concern  any  mine  of  silver  or  gold.  Again  their  eyes 
met,  and  again  unwillingly  they  parted  ;  it  seemed 
dangerous  to  look  longer,  as  if  the  meaning  that  they 
had  for  each  other  must  betray  itself  to  all  around. 
And  this  was  the  man  that  she  had  been  deeming  cold 
and  hard  !  "  Hombre  muy  /rio"  as  her  aunt  had  called 
him.  "  Cold  as  the  snows  of  his  own  frozen  North," 
as  her  father  had  said — said  it  of  him  !  Perhaps  so, 
perhaps  he  had  been  cold,  but  if  it  were  so,  the  ice  had 
melted  now. 

Stephens  lingered  over  his  story  longer  than  he 
had  intended  ;  questions  flowed  in  upon  him,  and  he 
had  to  answer  them  and  fill  in  many  things  that  he  had 
omitted,  for  the  storekeeper's  strange  and  dreadful  end 
was  a  matter  that  excited  intense  interest.  He  half 
hoped  that  by  exciting  their  curiosity  he  might  impel 
these  people  to  go  away  and  visit  the  house  of  the  de- 
ceased in  order  to  learn  what  more  they  could.  Any- 
thing to  make  them  move.  But  nothing  seemed  to 
have  the  desired  effect.  The  more  he  told  them  the 
more  they  wanted  to  know.  The  chance  to  see  the 
girl  alone  and  tell  her  what  was  in  his  heart  seemed  to 
grow  more  remote  than  ever.  He  ached  to  speak  to 
her,  were  it  but  a  few  words — a  few  words  he  told  him- 
self were  all  that  were  needful,  so  little  did  he  know  of 
love — and  yet  the  opportunity  was  denied. 

At  last  in  despair  he  rose  ;  he  would  go  away  him- 
self for  a  little  and  then  return.  Perhaps  meantime 


356  Lone  Pine 

the  visitors  might  disperse.  "  I  have  to  take  my  leave 
now,  ladies, ' '  he  said,  excusing  himself.  "  It  is  already 
the  hour  for  the  mail  to  arrive  from  Santa  Fe,  and  I 
am  expecting  letters  of  importance.  I  do  not  know 
how  they  will  manage  in  view  of  the  unhappy  death 
of  the  postmaster,  but  I  had  better  be  there  to  see  what 
is  to  be  done  about'  opening  the  mail-bag.  By  your 
permission,  then,  Don  Nepomuceno,"  and  he  bowed 
himself  out.  The  words  he  had  come  to  say  to  her 
were  still  unsaid.  The  thought  occurred  to  him  as 
he  moved  away, — should  he  speak  to  the  girl's  father  ? 
To  speak  to  the  girl's  father  first  would  be  quite  the 
correct  thing  according  to  Mexican  fashions;  or,  rather, 
if  he  wanted  to  do  the  thing  in  proper  style,  he  should 
go  and  get  a  friend  to  take  a  message  to  her  father  for 
him.  But  no  ;  he  was  not  a  Mexican,  and  why  should 
he  adopt  their  fashions  in  this  ?  He  was  an  American, 
and  he  would  woo  his  wife  in  American  style  for 
himself. 

Faro  started  to  come  with  him,  but  was  ordered 
back. 

"  Stay  where  you  are,  old  man,  till  I  come  for  you. 
I  see  you  're  not  so  tender-footed  as  you  were,  but  you 
stay  here."  He  felt  a  sort  of  prejudice  against  taking 
the  dog  to  the  house  of  mourning.  He  hated  to  go 
there  at  all,  but  he  had  to  have  his  mail  and  there  was 
no  other  way  to  get  it.  And  he  would  see  if  he  could 
find  out  anything  about  the  fate  of  the  letters  he  had 
entrusted  to  Backus. 

He  went  out  and  saddled  up  Morgana,  who  put  her 
pretty  head  round  and  pretended  to  bite  him  as  he 
pulled  on  the  latigo  strap  to  draw  the  cinch. 

"  Easy,  old  lady,  now  ;  come,  none  of  that  ";  as  she 
nearly  nipped  him.  "  Pedro  's  been  giving  you  too 


Auld  Acquaintance  357 

much  of  Don  Nepomuceno's  corn,  I  'in  thinking,  and 
it  's  got  into  your  head."  He  slung  his  Winchester 
into  its  case  under  the  off-stirrup  leather,  and  swinging 
himself  into  the  saddle  departed  on  his  errand. 

The  mail  waggon  had  just  drawn  up  as  usual  before 
the  door  of  the  post-office,  now  shut  and  locked,  and 
the  stage-driver  was  leading  his  team  around  the  back 
of  the  house  towards  the  stable  as  Stephens  came  in 
sight.  Two  passengers  had  dismounted  from  the  wag- 
gon, and  were  stretching  their  tired  limbs  and  looking 
disconsolately  at  the  closed  house  with  its  shuttered 
window,  which  seemed  to  offer  small  promise  of  a  meal. 

Stephens  loped  forward  with  the  idea  of  relieving 
their  discomfiture.  As  he  did  so  one  of  the  figures 
seemed  strangely  familiar.  "  Was  it — could  it  be  pos- 
sible ?  No.  Yes.  By  George,  it  was  !  ' '  With  a 
shout  of  welcome  he  sprang  off  the  mare,  slipping  her 
bridle  over  the  saddle-horn,  and  reached  out  both  hands 
to  the  newcomer. 

"  Rocky  !  well,  by  gum  !  " 

"  Jack,  old  pard  !  why,  you  haint  changed  a  mite  !  " 

Stephens  and  Rockyfeller  shook  hands  for  about 
three  minutes  by  the  clock. 

"  Say,"  said  Stephens,  when  the  first  greetings  were 
over,  ' '  what  brings  you  down  here  so  sudden-like  ? 
Thar  aint  nothing  wrong  ?  " 

' '  Not  with  me, ' '  answered  Rocky ;  "  I  got  your  tele- 
gram, though,  and  it  struck  me  that  as  you  thought  it 
worth  while  telegraphing  for  them  dollars,  you  might 
p'r'aps  be  in  some  sort  of  a  fix,  so  as  I  happened  to  be 
free  and  foot-loose  I  just  jumped  on  the  cars  as  far  as 
South  Pueblo,  and  took  the  stage,  and  here  I  am. 
And  I  was  curious  to  see  how  you  were  making  it  down 
here,  You  're  looking  Ai,  I  will  say.  New  Mexico 


358  Lone  Pine 

kinder  seems  to  agree  with  you.  Say,  look  at  here," 
— he  dropped  his  voice  slightly, — "  how  about  them 
velvet-eyed  Mexican  sefioritas  ?  Aint  none  of  them 
been  too  much  for  you  yet  ?  ' '  He  gave  his  former 
partner  a  rallying  look  as  he  spoke. 

"  Ah,  I  may  have  a  word  to  say  to  you  about  that 
presently,"  rejoined  the  other  in  a  guarded  tone. 
"But  say,  you  're  going  to  stop  here,  aint  you? 
You  're  not  bound  for  Wingate  ?  " 

"No,  of  course  I  'm  not,"  laughed  Rocky,  "not 
unless  you  turn  me  adrift.  I  've  come  down  to  see 
you — that  is,  if  it  's  quite  convenient."  It  was  char- 
acteristic of  Rocky  that  it  only  now  occurred  to  him 
that  if  his  former  partner  had  started  an  establishment 
down  here  a  casual  visitor  might  be  de  trop.  "  Of 
course,"  he  added  hastily,  "  I  can  go  on  to  Wingate 
with  the  stage,  quite  well,  along  with  my  friend  here, 
Doctor  Benton.  Excuse  me,  Doctor,"  — he  turned  to 
his  fellow-traveller,  who  had  been  regarding  the  meet- 
ing of  the  two  old  friends  with  no  other  interest  than 
considering  how  it  affected  his  chances  of  getting  a 
meal, — "  allow  me  to  introduce  you  two  gentlemen. 
Doctor,  this  is  my  old  friend,  Mr.  John  Stephens,  at 
present  a  resident  of  this  neighbourhood.  Jack,  this  is 
Doctor  Benton,  who  is  doctor  to  the  Post  at  Fort  Win- 
gate  and  is  now  on  his  way  there." 

The  army  doctor  and  the  prospector  exchanged 
greetings. 

"  Perhaps,  Mr.  Stephens,"  said  the  doctor,  who  was 
uncommonly  hungry,  "  you  can  inform  me  of  what  I 
am  anxious  to  discover,  namely,  what  possibility  there 
is  of  our  getting  a  meal  here  before  proceeding." 

Stephens  explained  that  the  keeper  of  the  stage 
station  had  just  been  killed  by  a  rattlesnake.  "  But  I 


Auld  Acquaintance  359 

think,"  he  continued,  "  that  if  you  will  put  yourself  in 
my  hands  I  can  manage  to  procure  you  a  meal  with 
some  friends  of  mine  near  here.  I  'd  like  to  ask  you 
to  come  up  to  my  place  at  Santiago,  but  the  stage  don't 
wait  but  an  hour  here,  and  there  would  n't  be  time,  as 
it 's  a  good  three  miles  off."  He  paused  and  hesitated 
for  a  moment.  "  I  should  like  to  say  that  these  friends 
of  mine  are  Mexicans,"  he  added  ;  "  there  are  no 
Americans  resident  i  n  this  part  of  the  Territory. ' '  The 
fact  was,  that  he  felt  slightly  embarrassed  for  two  rea- 
sons. He  was  afraid  that  Doctor  Beuton  would  try  to 
offer  payment  to  Don  Nepomuceno  for  his  meal,  which 
would  n't  do  at  all ;  and  he  wanted  to  explain  to  Rocky 
his  footing  in  the  house,  and  his  position  with  regard 
to  Manuelita,  before  taking  him  there,  so  as  to  shut 
off  beforehand  any  further  unseasonable  jests  about 
velvet-eyed  senoritas.  But  to  explain  this  to  him  be- 
fore a  stranger  like  Doctor  Benton  was  an  impossibility. 
He  must  contrive  somehow  to  get  a  chance  to  speak  to 
Rocky  for  a  few  minutes  alone. 

His  eye  fell  upon  Felipe,  who  had  followed  him  from 
the  Sanchez  house.  "  See  here,  young  'un,"  he  said, 
"  I  wish  you  'd  go  back  to  Don  Nepomuceno' s  for  me, 
and  tell  him,  with  my  compliments,  that  two  friends  of 
mine  have  just  come,  and  that  by  his  permission  I 
should  like  to  bring  them  to  his  house,  and  that  I 
should  be  very  much  obliged  if  he  could  give  them 
something  to  eat.  Off  you  go.  We  '11  follow  you." 

Felipe  was  off  like  a  shot. 

"  That  '11  be  all  right  now,  I  guess,"  said  Stephens, 
looking  after  his  retreating  figure,  "  but  if  you  '11  ex- 
cuse me  a  moment,  Doctor  Benton,  before  we  follow 
him,  I  've  got  to  see  about  1113^  mail  first.  I  expect 
there  may  be  something  of  importance  for  me,  but  I 


360  Lone   Pine 

feel  there  may  be  a  little  difficulty  about  getting  it, 
seeing  that  the  responsible  postmaster  's  dead,  and  the 
poor  woman  in  yonder," — he  dropped  his  voice  slightly, 
— "  who  represents  him  now,  is  in  no  condition  to 
transact  business.  I  guess  I  '11  go  and  speak  to  the 
stage-driver  first.  Will  you  come  around  with  me, 
Rocky?" 

"  Why,  the  mail-bags  are  in  here,"  cut  in  the  doctor, 
pointing  to  the  stage,  "  and  the  driver  never  has  the 
key.  You  '11  have  to  get  it  out  of  the  widow,  some- 
how, I  expect." 

"  Ah,"  said  the  prospector  suddenly,  a  fresh  idea 
flashing  across  him,  "  you  might  be  able  to  tell  me 
perhaps  about  one  thing  that  I  'm  curious  to  know. 
You  are  just  from  headquarters  at  Santa  Fe",  Doctor, 
are  n't  you  ?  " 

The  doctor  nodded  assent. 

"  Well,  do  you  know  of  any  detail  of  soldiers  being 
despatched  in  this  direction  to  look  after  the  Navajos  ? 
There  's  a  band  of  Navajos  have  left  their  reservation, 
and  there  was  very  serious  trouble  with  them  here 
some  four  days  back,  and  I  wrote  to  the  governor  and 
the  general  who  is  in  command  of  the  troops  at  Santa 
Fe  to  ask  for  protection  for  the  citizens  here.  I  wrote 
by  the  last  mail  that  went  in  from  here  on  this  same 
stage,  driven  by  this  man.  I  know  that  he  must  have 
delivered  a  letter  I  gave  him  addressed  to  the  First 
National  Bank  of  Santa  Fe,  because  I  had  enclosed  in 
it  a  telegram  to  my  old  pard  here,  and  the  bank  for- 
warded it  to  him  all  O.  K.  But  I  'm  a  little  doubtful 
as  to  what  became  of  those  letters  to  the  governor  and 
the  general.  I  want  to  know  why  those  soldiers 
were  n't  sent." 

"  Hni-in,"  said  the  army  doctor  ;  "  it  so  happens 


Auld  Acquaintance  361 

that  I  was  conversing  with  both  Governor  Stone  and 
General  Merewether  only  yesterday  before  starting, 
and  we  were  talking  about  the  route  by  here  to  Win- 
gate,  and  the  difficulty  of  the  Rio  Grande  being  in 
flood,  but  they  never  said  a  word  about  any  report  of 
trouble  with  the  Navajos." 

"  You  don't  say!  "  said  Stephens  ;  "  and  you  did  n't 
pass  any  troops  on  the  road  anywhere  along  ?  ' ' 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  the  other  ;  "  in  fact,  if  any 
troops  had  been  coming  this  way,  I  should  probably 
have  accompanied  them.  But  I'  am  in  a  position  to 
state  that  no  detail  of  troops  of  any  kind  has  left  Santa 
Fe  for  a  week  or  more. ' ' 

"  Well,  I  'm  dashed  !  "  said  the  prospector  ;  "  they 
would  have  said  something  to  you  about  it,  sure,  if 
they  ever  got  my  letters. ' '  He  was  silent. 

' '  Mahletonkwa  must  have  told  the  straight  truth  for 
once  in  his  life,"  he  reflected,  "  and  that  rascal  of  a 
postmaster  must  have  actually  had  the  face  to  burn 
those  letters  I  gave  him,  and,  what  's  more,  now  he  's 
dead  we  '11  never  prove  it  on  him  in  God's  world.  Not 
that  it  would  be  any  use  if  we  could.  The  mischief 's 
done  now  so  far  as  he  could  do  it,  but  it 's  the  last  he  '11 
ever  do,  sure.  The  letter  I  gave  the  stage-driver  was 
all  right.  He  could  n't  get  at  that." 

Stephens  never  knew  how  near  his  letter  to  the 
Bank,  with  the  telegram  for  Rocky,  had  come  to 
sharing  the  fate  of  the  others.  But  the  stage-driver, 
though  he  might  talk  and  bluster,  had  no  real  motive 
for  destroying  it,  and  he  did  have  a  healthy  fear  of  the 
Post-Office  Department.  Mr.  Backus  had  a  motive, 
and  did  not  share  the  other's  wholesome  dread  of  his 
official  superiors. 

While  Stephens  was  pondering  over  the  fate  of  his 


362  Lone  Pine 

letters,  he  slipped  one  hand  in  an  absent-minded  way 
into  his  side  pocket,  and  there  he  stumbled  on  exactly 
what  he  most  wanted  at  that  moment,  a  good  excuse 
for  taking  Rocky  apart.  The  first  thing  his  fingers 
had  encountered  was  the  paper  containing  the  speci- 
mens of  the  outcrop  at  the  Lone  Pine  rock  that  he  had 
brought  away  with  him.  Excellent!  here  was  the  very 
thing  ;  he  produced  it  somewhat  mysteriously,  and 
handing  it  to  Rocky,  said  apologetically  to  the  other 
man,  "  One  moment  by  your  leave,  Doctor,  if  you 
please.  There  's  something  here  I  want  just  to  have 
my  old  partner  look  at,"  and  he  drew  Rocky  a  little 
to  one  side. 

"  Why,  certainly,"  said  the  Doctor,  turning  round 
and  proceeding  to  climb  into  the  stage  ;  "  I  '11  just  see 
if  I  can  rout  out  that  mail-bag  for  you  before  the  stage- 
driver  comes. ' ' 

"  I  wanted  to  tell  you,  Rocky,  about  my  friends  at 
this  house  where  I  'm  taking  you,"  began  Stephens 
hurriedly,  in  a  low  voice  ;  "  I  don't  want  you  to  make 
any  error  :  there  's  a  girl  there  that  I  think —  "  But 
his  ex-partner,  who  had  already  opened  the  paper,  in- 
terrupted him  with  the  greatest  excitement. 

"  Why,  burn  my  skin  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  do  you 
know  what  you  've  got  hold  of  here  ?  You  've  got 
some  of  that  same  ore  they  've  gone  crazy  over  up  at 
Mohawk.  Did  n't  you  spot  the  horn  silver  in  it  ?  If 
you  've  got  a  good  lode  of  this  stuff,  by  thunder,  you '  ve 
got  a  soft  thing  !  Is  it  a  good  vein  ?  If  it  's  three  or 
four  foot  wide  you  '11  just  have  the  world  by  the  tail." 

"  That  so  ?  "  said  his  friend,  "  you  don't  say  !  I 
guess  I  must  have  stumbled  on  to  that  hidden  mine  of 
the  Indians  I  've  been  hunting  for,  at  last.  But  that  '11 
keep." 


Auld  Acquaintance  363 

Rocky,  remembering  his  old  friend's  former  ardour 
in  prospecting,  was  amazed  at  the  cool  way  in  which  he 
took  the  news  that  he  had  made  this  highly  valuable 
strike. 

' '  Look  at  here,  Rocky  ;  the  thing  I  was  really  aim- 
ing to  say  to  you,"  continued  Stephens,  his  colour 
rising  as  he  spoke,  "  was  about  that  young  lady," — at 
this  Rocky 's  lips  curved  into  a  knowing  smile  and  his 
eyes  twinkled  ; — "  don't  laugh,  old  man,  I  'm  dead  in 
earnest  over  this  thing,  and  I  think  a  heap  of  her. 
She  's  a  lady,  mind  you,  right  down  to  the  ground." 

"  Why,  to  be  sure,  she  must  be,"  cut  in  Rocky,  with 
portentous  seriousness,  though  his  eyes  danced  with 
merriment  ;  "  she  would  n't  be  your  style  no  other 
way.  You  always  was  high-toned,  Jack  ;  I  '11  say  that 
for  you. ' ' 

"That  's  all  right,"  returned  Stephens,  colouring 
more  furiously  than  ever  ;  he  knew  he  was  blushing, 
though  the  experience  was  entirely  strange  to  him,  and 
he  was  dreadfully  ashamed  of  not  being  able  to  help  it. 
"  But  indeed  I  'm  not  joking,  Rocky.  Her  family  's 
not  very  rich,  but  they  're  kind  of  way-up  people,  I 
want  you  to  understand,  old  Spanish  blood  and  that 
sort  of  thing  ;  not  any  of  the  low-down,  half-caste  In- 
dian stock,  you  know." 

"  That  so  ?  "  said  Rocky,  keenly  ;  "  wal',  I  'm  glad 
to  hear  it.  I  thought  Mexicans  was  all  one  quality 
straight  through — leastways,  all  I  ever  seen  were." 
Rocky's  knowledge  of  the  race  was  limited  to  the  bull- 
whackers  of  the  big  waggon-trains  on  the  freighting 
roads,  and  Mexican  stock  was  considerably  below  par 
by  his  estimate. 

"  That  's  where  you  got  off  wrong,"  said  Stephens 
eagerly,  "  for  there  's  a  few  families  here  in  New 


364  Lone  Pine 

Mexico  that  's  just  as  good  as  anybody,  if  it  comes  to 
that — Bacas  and  Armijos  and — and  Sanchez — "  he 
hesitated  a  little. 

"  Say,"  cut  in  Rocky,  "  look  at  yonder  !  Who  are 
them  ducks  a-coming  up  the  road  ?  They  're  riding 
as  if  all  blazes  was  loose.  Some  of  the  First  Families 
of  New  Mexico,  eh  ?  "  Rocky  was  sarcastic.  He 
knew  Indians  when  he  saw  them. 

"  By  George  !  "  exclaimed  Stephens  in  considerable 
excitement,  "it  's  those  accursed  Navajos  back  here 
again." 

Out  of  a  whirling  cloud  of  red  dust  and  flying 
horsehoofs  emerged  the  well-known  figures  of  Mahle- 
tonkwa,  Notalinkwa,  and  the  rest  of  the  gang.  They 
reined  up  before  the  shut  door  of  the  store,  and  most 
of  them  sprang  off  their  horses. 

"  They  've  not  gone  back  to  their  reservation,"  said 
Stephens  indignantly.  "  We  'd  ought  to  have  had  the 
soldiers  here  by  now,  and  put  them  right  back.  I  'm 
all  for  doing  things  by  law  and  order,  me,  and  it  's  the 
soldiers'  business  anyway.  But  it  's  getting  to  be 
time  something  was  done.  It  's  an  infamous  shame 
they  should  be  allowed  to  fly  around  like  this  and 
bulldoze  everybody  ;  and,  what  's  more,  I  'm  getting 
tired  of  it." 

The  Indians  were  talking  and  laughing  in  a  loud,  ex- 
cited manner,  and  Mahletonkwa  began  to  pound  on  the 
closed  door  of  the  store  with  his  fist. 

"  That 's  a  sockdologer, "  said  Rocky,  "  him  knock- 
ing at  the  door  I  mean,  with  the  eagle-feathers  in  his 
head-dress."  Mahletonkwa  was  a  big  man  physically ; 
his  stature  would  have  been  remarkable  even  in  a 
crowd  of  Western  men,  perhaps  the  tallest  men,  on  an 
average,  of  any  on  the  face  of  the  globe.  ' '  Say,  do 


Auld  Acquaintance  365 

you  mean  to  tell  me  that  these  are  wild  Indians,  and 
you  leave  'em  around  here  loose  ?  " 

"  They  're  worse  than  wild  Indians  just  now,"  said 
Stephens,  whose  eyes  were  beginning  to  glow  like 
hot  coals  ;  "  they  're  Indians  with  liquor  enough  in 
them  to  make  'em  crazy  for  more,  and  ready  for  any 
devilment. ' ' 

"  Say,  Mahletonkwa, "  he  called  out,  raising  his 
voice  and  advancing  a  step,  "  quit  that  hammering, 
will  you  !  There  's  trouble  in  the  house,  and  you 
must  n't  disturb  them." 

The  Indian  took  no  more  notice  of  him  than  a  strik- 
ing clock  might  have  done,  but  went  on  pounding  with 
loud,  continuous  blows  on  the  resounding  wood. 

"  Stop  it,  will  you  !  "  cried  Stephens,  springing  for- 
ward ;  "don't  you  hear  me  ?  There  's  a  dead  man  in 
there,  I  tell  you,  and  a  poor  woman  mourning. ' ' 

"  I  want  more  whiskey,"  said  Mahletonkwa  ex- 
citedly, and  he  beat  the  door  with  both  hands. 

The  next  moment  Stephens  had  him  by  the  shoul- 
ders and  whirled  him  around,  and  with  a  push  sent  him 
staggering  half  a  dozen  yards  from  the  house. 

The  Indian  recovered  himself,  wheeled  sharp  round, 
and  with  a  yell  of  rage  drew  his  knife  and  bounded 
upon  Stephens.  He,  too,  drew  his  to  defend  himself, 
but  as  he  did  so  Rocky  sprang  between  them,  pulling 
his  Derringer.  Alas  !  the  Indian's  knife  was  quicker 
than  the  pistol ;  he  grappled  Rocky  instead  of  Stephens, 
and  stabbed  him  in  the  breast.  Down  went  Rocky 
with  a  crash  upon  the  ground,  the  pistol  dropping  un- 
fired  from  his  nerveless  fingers,  and  the  blood  poured 
from  his  mouth. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

ELEVEN  TO  ONE 

AT  sight  of  Rocky  bleeding  at  his  feet,  something 
seemed  suddenly  to  snap  in  Stephens' s  brain, 
and  the  secret  rage  that  had  been  consuming  him  for 
days  blazed  out.  This  was  open  war  at  last,  and  the 
Navajos  themselves  had  begun  it.  It  was  their  own 
choice. 

"  So  now  then,"  said  he,  "  they  shall  have  it." 
Almost  before  Mahletonkwa  could  draw  his  dripping 
blade  from  his  victim's  body,  the  American's  strong 
grasp  seized  him  and  swung  him  violently  round. 
Stephens' s  right  hand  gripped  the  hilt  of  his  great 
hunting-knife,  and  with  it  he  dealt  the  red  man  one 
terrible  stroke  as  with  a  sword.  All  the  strength  of 
his  arm  and  all  the  wrath  of  his  soul  went  into  that 
mighty  sweep  of  the  blade,  and  he  felt  the  keen  edge 
shear  right  through  bone  and  muscle  as  it  clove  the 
doomed  man's  breast  asunder  and  split  his  heart  in 
twain.  The  dying  yell  of  the  Indian  rent  the  air  with 
so  piercing  a  sound  that  the  women  in  the  Sanchez 
house,  three  furlongs  off,  heard  it,  and  sprang  trem- 
bling to  their  feet.  With  both  his  hands  the  American 
raised  his  stricken  foe  aloft  and  flung  him  clear  away, 
a  corpse  before  he  touched  ground. 

It  was  all  over  in  five  seconds  ;  but  Stephens  knew 
366 


Eleven  to  One  367 

it  could  not  end  there.  This  was  no  final  blow  in  a 
single  combat,  it  was  rather  the  first  in  one  where  the 
odds  were  still  ten  to  one  against  him.  Mahletonkwa's 
followers  were  swiftly  unslinging  their  guns,  save  four 
who  had  sprung  to  their  horses,  whether  to  fight  or  fly 
he  could  not  tell.  Like  a  flash  the  American's  ready 
six-shooter  was  out  from  his  belt.  Notalinkwa  was 
nearest  him,  his  gun  already  at  his  shoulder  ;  but  the 
too  careful  Indian  paused  a  moment  on  his  aim  to  make 
sure,  and  that  pause  was  fatal.  As  the  Amerian's  pis- 
tol came  up  level  the  hammer  fell,  and  Notalinkwa, 
shot  through  the  heart,  pitched  heavily  forward,  and 
lay  there  prone  on  the  brown  earth,  biting  it  convuls- 
ively in  the  strong  death-agony. 

With  the  rapidity  of  lightning  the  deadly  weapon 
spoke  again,  and  again,  and  again,  and  as  each  jet  of 
smoke  and  flame  leapt  from  the  muzzle,  each  bullet, 
true  to  its  mark,  laid  an  enemy  low.  If  Stephens 
thought  at  all  during  those  breathless  seconds  in 
which  he  sent  foe  after  foe  to  his  last  account,  it  was 
but  to  say  to  himself,  ' '  Quick,  now,  quick  !  Be  quick, 
but  sure  !  ' ' 

Navajo  rifle-balls  whistled  by  him,  but  he  felt  no  fear; 
there  was  no  room  for  that,  for  his  whole  soul  now  was 
bent  upon  one  passionate  purpose, — to  kill,  kill,  kill. 

As  the  fourth  Navajo  dropped  to  his  fourth  shot,  he 
saw  the  rest  run,  and,  gave  one  wild  shout  of  triumph, 
and  even  as  his  voice  rang  out  his  fifth  barrel  went  off, 
and  down  dropped  yet  another  of  the  gang.  It  seemed 
as  though  he  could  not  miss  a  single  shot  to-day. 

"  Oh,  Doctor,"  he  cried,  "  oh,  Doctor  !  quick  here, 
Rocky 's  hurt  !  "  but  he  did  not  turn  his  head  as  he 
shouted  to  him  to  help  his  wounded  friend. 

The  four  Indians  who  had  already  mounted  were  off 


368  Lone  Pine 

and  away,  and  Kaniache,  the  last  of  those  who  had 
turned  to  fight  when  Mahletonkwa  was  slain,  had  now 
lost  heart  and  was  springing  to  horse  to  follow  them. 
What  chance  was  there  to  fight  against  a  man  like  this, 
on  whom  no  Navajo  rifle-balls  seemed  to  have  any 
effect,  but  whose  own  unerring  bullets  slew  a  victim  at 
each  shot  ?  He  was  no  mere  man,  but  an  avenging 
fury. 

Alas  for  Kaniache  !  the  resolve  to  fly  came  too  late. 
As  he  reached  the  saddle  Stephens  raised  his  six- 
shooter  for  the  last  time,  and  the  foresight  came  into 
the  V-notch  of  the  hammer  just  below  the  red  man's 
shoulder  blade  as  he  turned  to  flee.  The  last  of  the 
six  cartridges  spoke,  once  more  the  jet  of  flame  and 
smoke  leaped  from  the  muzzle,  and  Kaniache  dropped 
forward  on  the  neck  of  his  steed,  clutching  blindly  and 
desperately  at  the  mane.  The  horse  bounded  forward 
after  the  others  that  had  fled  before  him,  his  rider's  hot 
blood  pouring  down  his  withers,  and  dropping  on  to  his 
knees  at  every  stride.  Then  the  desperate  clutch  re- 
laxed, and  the  death-stricken  Kaniache  pitched  heavily 
to  the  ground,  and  with  loose  rein  the  riderless  steed 
galloped  wildly  across  the  plain. 

"  Hurrah,"  shouted  Stephens  again  as  he  darted  to 
his  mare,  "  hurrah  !  Run,  you  dogs,  run  !  " 

The  sweetest  moment  in  a  man's  life  is  when  he  looks 
in  the  eyes  of  his  mistress  and  knows  that  his  love  is 
returned  ;  the  proudest  is  when  he  sees  in  front  of  him 
his  foes,  but  sees  nothing  but  their  backs.  And  to 
Stephens  both  these  things  came  in  one  hour. 

He  raised  the  rein,  and  Morgana  bounded  forward 
in  pursuit.  His  eye  glancing  around  fell  upon  the 
figure  of  Doctor  Benton  just  leaping  from  the  stage 
waggon,  pistol  in  hand.  He  had  heard  the  rapid  shots 


Eleven  to  One  369 

before  he  heard  Stephens' s  shout,  and  his  first  impulse 
had  been  to  catch  up  his  weapon  and  take  his  share  in 
the  fighting.  But  so  quick  had  been  the  deadly  work 
that  there  was  no  one  for  him  to  turn  loose  on  save  the 
dead  or  dying  redskins  who  bestrewed  the  ground,  and 
he  paused  as  if  undecided  what  to  do. 

Stephens  settled  the  question  for  him. 

"  Hurry  up,  there,  Doc,"  he  shouted  over  his  shoul- 
der to  him,  "  hurry  up,  or  Rocky  '11  be  dead."  And 
looking  back  he  saw  the  army  surgeon  run  across  to 
where  the  prostrate  white  man  lay. 

Seeing  this,  he  was  satisfied  skilled  hands  would  do 
all  that  was  possible  to  save  his  old  partner.  For  him- 
self there  was  only  one  course,  to  go  on  right  to  the 
bitter  end  as  he  had  begun,  and  avenge  on  the  whole 
murderous  gang  the  wanton  knife-stroke  of  their  chief, 
— ay,  and  more,  to  avenge  upon  them,  too,  the  terrors 
of  Manuelita,  and  the  murder  of  that  lonely  wanderer 
in  the  mountains  whom  he  and  the  whole  lot  of  them 
had  so  foully  done  to  death  beside  the  Lone  Pine.  For 
all  that  long  account,  vengeance  should  be  taken  to  the 
very  last  drop. 

He  looked  ahead  :  the  four  fugitives  were  galloping 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  front  of  him,  making  not  for  the 
sierra,  but  for  the  more  open  valley  of  the  Agua  Negra. 
He  was  clearing  the  last  of  the  San  Remo  houses  now, 
and  as  he  did  so  he  heard  the  thunder  of  horsehoofs 
on  his  right,  and  two  well-mounted  Mexicans  dashed 
forth  from  the  corrals  to  join  in  the  pursuit.  They 
were  the  same  young  men  who  the  day  before  had  rid- 
den in  ahead  of  Don  Nepomuceno's  party  to  rejoin 
their  sweethearts.  They  had  heard  the  firing  begin, 
had  seen  the  fray,  and  mounted  in  hot  haste  to  play 
their  part. 

24 


370  Lone  Pine 

"  Bueno  !  "  he  shouted  when  he  saw  them,  "  bueno, 
boys!  Wade  in.  We '11  give 'em  a  dose  of  it  between 
us." 

The  Mexicans  cheered  back  to  him,  and  plied  their 
quirts  ;  Morgana  was  going  at  three  quarters  racing 
speed,  but  they  sent  their  horses  along  from  the  start 
as  if  they  were  running  a  quarter-mile  dash.  The 
house  from  which  they  came  was  a  little  to  one  side  of 
the  Indians'  line  of  flight,  and  they  made  for  their  line 
at  such  an  angle  that  they  gained  a  decided  advantage 
both  on  them  and  on  the  American,  and  were  enabled 
to  cut  ahead  of  the  latter.  The  fugitives,  hearing  the 
shouts,  and  looking  back  and  becoming  aware  of  these 
new  pursuers,  at  once  began  to  flog,  but  the  rearmost 
Navajo's  horse  could  not  answer  to  the  whip,  and  the 
tremendous  pace  at  which  the  Mexicans  had  started 
carried  them  right  up  to  within  fifty  yards  of  him. 

Out  came  their  revolvers,  bang,  bang,  bang  !  they 
went  at  him,  and  again,  bang,  bang,  bang  !  But  such 
wild  firing  as  this  over  the  heads  of  galloping  horses  is 
random  work  at  best,  and  the  Navajo  went  on  scathless. 

"  Esperatc  !  Esperate  !  "  sang  out  Stephens  from  be- 
hind. "  You  're  wasting  your  ammunition.  Wait  till 
you  're  closer,  boys."  But  in  spite  of  his  wiser  coun- 
sels he  still  heard  them  firing  away,  bang,  bang,  bang  ! 

Young  blood  soon  gets  hot  in  the  chase  ;  and  then 
Stephens  saw  a  curious  sight.  Bang  went  the  leading 
Mexican's  revolver  once  more,  and  this  time  the  bullet, 
better  aimed  or  more  lucky,  found  its  mark.  The 
Navajo's  horse  was  seen  to  stagger  and  stumble  and 
then  come  down,  the  rider  leaping  nimbly  off  over  its 
head  ;  he  lit  on  his  feet  like  a  cat,  and  he  held  his  bow 
and  some  arrows  in  his  left  hand  ;  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye  he  was  ready  for  them,  and  as  the  Mexicans 


Eleven  to  One  371 

rode  headlong  at  him  he  slapped  an  arrow  into  the  first 
and  brought  him  heavily  to  the  ground  ;  like  lightning 
a  second  arrow  was  fitted  to  the  string,  and  he  let  fly 
again,  and  the  arrow  buried  itself  to  the  feather  in  the 
breast  of  the  second  man's  horse,  and  horse  and  rider 
both  fell  almost  on  top  of  him.  The  Navajo  caught  the 
rein  of  the  first  man's  horse  with  which  to  resume  his 
flight,  while  the  .second  Mexican  was  still  struggling 
with  his  fallen  steed  ;  and  so  marvellously  quick  and 
adroit  was  he  that  he  must  have  succeeded  in  getting 
away  but  for  the  American.  The  moment  Stephens 
saw  the  arrow-stricken  horse  roll  over,  he  drew  rein, 
and  in  half  a  dozen  strides  brought  his  mare  to  a  stand- 
still. He  would  not  jerk  her  on  to  her  haunches,  for 
he  was  saving  her  strength  for  what  promised  to  be  a 
long  chase.  Before  she  had  actually  stopped  he  was 
on  the  ground,  rifle  in  hand,  and  ready  to  shoot. 
Then,  as  the  Indian  was  bounding  to  the  saddle  of  the 
captured  horse,  the  deadly  rifle  came  up,  and  the  mo- 
mentary poise  of  the  bent  body,  as  he  threw  his  leg 
over,  gave  to  the  marksman  the  fatal  opportunity. 
The  rifle  cracked,  and  the  conical  bullet  tore  clean 
through  the  Navajo's  vitals  and  passed  out  at  his  right 
breast.  His  dexterous  manoeuvre  had  been  all  in  vain, 
and  he  fell  forward  under  the  horse's  feet,  and  his  spirit 
took  flight  to  join  that  of  his  slain  chief  who  had  gone 
so  little  before  him. 

Stephens  leaped  into  the  saddle  again,  and  galloped 
up.  The  unwounded  Mexican  had  freed  himself  un- 
hurt from  his  prostrate  mount,  and  was  now  trying  to 
draw  the  arrow  from  his  friend. 

"  Go  on,  you,"  he  cried  to  Stephens  as  the  latter 
checked  his  speed,  "  go  on,  you,  and  kill  los  demonios, 
kill  them  all."  The  American  took  him  at  his  word, 


372  Lone  Pine 

and  away  darted  Morgana  again  in  her  stretching  gal- 
lop. There  were  only  three  redskins  left  now,  and  they 
were  some  distance  ahead,  but  the  gallant  little  Morgan 
mare  pressed  steadily  after  them.  The  foam  flakes  be- 
gan to  fly  from  her  bit,  but  she  was  full  of  spirit  and 
going  strong.  He  glanced  down  at  his  waist  and  saw 
the  bright  copper  tops  of  the  row  of  unused  cartridges 
that  encircled  it.  Stephens  was  one  of  those  men  who 
grow  cold  as  they  grow  hot.  His  brain  was  like  molten 
metal  under  a  crust  of  ice.  Shifting  reins  and  rifle 
into  one  hand,  he  composedly  felt  the  belt  all  round 
with  the  other  ;  there  was  but  one  vacant  loop,  and 
this  assured  him  that  there  were  thirty-nine  more  there 
in  reserve. 

"  Seven  Indians  in  seven  shots,"  said  he  cynically  ; 
"  that  must  come  pretty  near  making  a  record.  Well, 
if  I  can  only  keep  up  that  lick  now  !  ' '  His  relentless 
eye  measured  the  gap  between  him  and  his  flying  foes. 
With  joy  he  noted  that  it  was  decreasing,  for  his  whole 
soul  longed  to  close  with  them  and  slay,  slay,  slay. 

This  blood  thirst  in  him  was  a  new  thing.  He  had 
been  in  battles  before,  but  he  had  never  felt  like  this. 
The  strained  nerve,  the  hot  fever  of  strife,  the  passion- 
ate will  to  win,  none  of  these  sensations  were  new  to 
him,  though  he  had  not  known  them  since  the  day  of 
Apache  Canon.  But  when  Coloradans  and  Texans 
met  in  conflict  he  had  not  felt  as  he  did  now.  He  had 
had  no  race  feeling  against  foes  whom  he  looked  upon 
as  Western  men  like  himself.  He  had  no  personal 
wrongs  to  avenge  upon  them  ;  all  he  wanted  was  to 
send  them  back  to  where  they  came  from  ;  to  stop  them 
from  conquering  the  Rocky  Mountain  country  and 
breaking  up  the  Union  ;  in  short,  he  only  wanted  to 
hammer  them  back  into  brotherhood.  This  was  a 


Eleven  to  One  373 

different  thing  ;  now  there  was  a  fire  burning  in  his 
veins  that  would  not  be  satisfied  till  the  last  one  of  his 
enemies  lay  dead  at  his  feet.  It  was  not  merely  victory 
he  wanted,  but  vengeance.  The  shedders  of  the  inno- 
cent blood,  that  cried  against  them  from  the  ground, 
should  be  utterly  wiped  out  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 
He  would  not  leave  one  of  them  alive. 

And  ever  the  game  little  Morgan  mare  strode  bravely 
along,  and  now  his  heart  leaped  to  perceive  that  the 
Indians  were  losing  more  and  more  rapidly  the  advan- 
tage they  had  gained  at  the  start-.  By  this  time  there 
was  distinctly  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  between 
him  and  them. 

"  Good  for  you,  Pedro,"  he  cried,  as  he  noted  the 
gain  the  mare  was  making;  "  you  did  n't  stint  her  feed 
last  night.  Don  Nepomuceno's  corn  sticks  by  your 
ribs,  little  lady";  and  at  the  sound  of  her  master's 
voice  Morgana  pricked  her  ears  and  strode  out  more 
bravely  than  ever.  He  had  not  touched  her  yet  with 
the  spur. 

Overnight  Mahletonkwa  and  his  gang  had  betaken 
themselves  some  little  distance  down  the  Santiago  River 
to  enjoy  themselves  in  their  own  way  with  the  illicit* 
whiskey  they  had  procured  from  the  storekeeper,  and 
there  they  had  turned  their  ponies  loose  to  graze. 
There  was  rich  green  grass  in  the  moist  swales  along 
the  river-bed,  and  their  steeds  had  feasted  on  it.  The 
young  April  grass  tells  its  tale  in  a  long  gallop,  and 
Stephens  began  to  see  that  their  horses  were  already 
in  distress.  He  gave  his  bridle-rein  a  shake,  and 
touched  Morgana  with  the  spur  ;  right  gallantly  she 
responded,  and  the  gap  now  diminished  fast.  He  was 
overhauling  them  hand  over  hand.  He  turned  his 
head  and  looked  back  ;  he  could  see  for  miles  behind 


374  Lone   Pine 

him,  but  there  was  no  one  in  sight.  No  doubt  as  soon 
as  they  could  get  together  there  would  be  many  Mexi- 
can friends  who  would  take  up  his  trail  and  follow  it, 
eager  to  help,  but  that  could  not  be  for  some  time  yet. 
Once  more  it  was  his  lot  to  play  a  lone  hand. 

And  still  the  gap  grew  less  ;  the  Indians  looked  back 
oftener  and  oftener,  and  their  whips  were  plied  merci- 
lessly all  the  time.  Only  a  bare  hundred  yards  sepa- 
rated him  from  them  now. 

Stephens  kept  his  eye  glued  to  them,  expecting 
them  every  instant  to  jump  off  and  receive  him  with  a 
volley.  That  certainly  seemed  to  be  the  best  game  for 
them  to  play,  as  their  horses  were  so  nearly  done. 
The  question  was,  would  they  try  it  ?  If  they  did,  he  • 
too  must  leap  off  and  shoot  as  quick  as  they.  The 
Winchester,  he  thought,  would  give  the  three  of  them 
shot  for  shot  and  something  over. 

But  to  stand  up  to  it  and  give  and  take  shot  for  shot 
was  not  the  Indians'  style  of  doing  business.  They 
had  no  spirit  left  in  them  to  face  this  terrible  man  in 
the  open  ;  just  here,  however,  the  trail  approached  a 
spot  more  suitable  to  their  methods  of  fighting.  A  bold 
and  lofty  butte,  a  landmark  known  far  and  wide  as  the 
Cerro  Chato,  rose  abruptly  a  little  to  one  side  of  the  trail, 
and  the  Navajos  suddenly  swung  off  to  the  right  and 
made  for  it,  hoping  to  gain  the  shelter  of  the  broken 
masses  of  rock  that  were  strewn  about  its  base,  and  from 
that  vantage-ground  defy  their  merciless  pursuer. 

Stephens  divined  their  object  the  moment  they  turned 
for  the  butte  ;  he  also  changed  his  course,  and  he  now 
spurred  freely  and  spoke  to  the  mare  and  encouraged 
her  with  his  voice.  The  staunch  Morgan  blood  answered 
to  the  call  ;  there  was  a  spurt  still  left  in  her,  and  she 
fairly  raced  them  for  the  rocks.  But  though  she  was 


Eleven  to  One  375 

doing  all  she  knew,  the  Indians  got  there  first.  They 
sprang  to  earth,  and  as  they  did  so  Stephens  did  the 
same,  scarce  fifty  yards  behind  them.  They  darted  for 
hiding  to  the  cleft  of  rocks  ;  two  got  there,  but  one  was 
too  late  ;  just  as  he  reached  his  goal  the  leaden  mes- 
senger outwent  him,  and  he  felt  the  crippling  blow  ;  it 
caught  him  in  the  thigh  as  he  ran,  and  the  broken  limb 
gave  way  under  him  ;  still,  on  his  hands  and  knees,  he 
dragged  himself  desperately  forward  almost  into  the 
longed-for  haven  of  refuge,  but  another  bullet,  pumped 
up  from  the  magazine,  followed  -all  too  swiftly  on  the 
first,  and  broke  his  spine,  and  a  third  gave  the  merci- 
ful coiip-de-grace  and  put  him  out  of  his  pain. 

'  There  's  something  mighty  persuasive  about  a 
Winchester,"  jeered  Stephens,  hastily  throwing  in  an- 
other cartridge  as  he  rushed  forward,  and  casting  just 
one  glance  at  the  body  as  he  passed.  The  persuasive 
repeating  rifle  had  pumped  lead  to  some  purpose  into 
White  Antelope.  Never  again  would  he  see  the  rich 
valleys  of  the  Chusca  Mountains  where  so  often  he  had 
roamed  with  his  tribe  ;  no  more  would  he  tend  his 
flock,  like  the  patriarch  of  old,  and  lead  from  pasture 
to  water,  and  from  water  to  pasture  the  spotted  and 
ringstreaked  herd  of  many-horned  sheep  whose  inno- 
cent faces  he  knew  so  well.  Here,  under  the  Cerro 
Chato,  coyotes  and  eagle-hawks  would  pick  his  bones, 
and  the  little  booth  of  boughs  where  his  squaw  and  his 
papooses  waited  for  him — the  little  booth  that  to  each 
wandering  son  of  the  desert  stands  for  hojne — would 
never  see  him  more. 

War  is  cruel  work.  The  renegade  Navajo  band  had 
brought  this  on  themselves,  and  richly  deserved  what 
they  got,  yet,  take  it  all  round,  retribution,  however 
just,  is  a  butcherly  job. 


376  Lone  Pine 

"  Two  more  left,  and  I  'in  bound  to  rub  it  in,"  said 
Stephens,  plunging  in  amongst  the  rocks  lest  the  pair 
who  had  already  found  cover  should  take  advantage 
of  his  exposed  position  outside. 

Above  them  the  butte  rose  abruptly  to  a  height  of 
two  or  three  hundred  feet,  but  the  face  of  it  was  so 
much  broken  down  that  the  fallen  fragments  had  made 
a  slope  half  way  up  it,  while  the  largest  detached 
blocks  had  rolled  in  numbers  to  the  very  bottom  and 
lay  confusedly  heaped  together  or  loosely  scattered 
around. 

"  It  's  pretty  near  as  good  a  place  for  these  sons  of 
guns  as  the  Lava  Beds, ' '  he  said  ;  ' '  only,  thank  my 
stars,  there  are  n't  so  many  of  them  now.  Yet  I  've 
got  to  go  to  work  mighty  cautious  here,  or  else  I  '11 
give  myself  away  for  good  and  all."  He  wiped  his 
streaming  face  as  he  crouched  behind  a  rock  for  a 
minute  or  two  to  recover  his  breath  and  decide  on  the 
next  move. 

"  Git  'em!  "  he  went  on,  "  I  've  got  to  git  'em,  as 
the  boy  said  ;  and  there  's  no  two  ways  about  it.  But 
how  am  I  going  to  git  'em  ?  that  's  the  next  question. 
If  I  stand  straight  up  and  try  to  walk  right  on  to  them, 
they  're  simply  bound  to  have  the  dead  wood  on  me. 
There  'd  be  no  show  at  all  for  me  in  that  game.  I  've 
got  to  try  and  play  it  more  their  own  style." 

Very  cautiously,  foot  by  foot,  surveying  the  ground 
on  every  side  at  each  change  of  position,  he  began  to 
move  around.  Dead  silence  reigned,  broken  here  by 
no  war-whoops  as  in  the  Lava  Beds  ;  the  desperate 
red  men  were  biding  their  time  ;  hid  in  the  rocks  they 
knew  their  advantage,  and  reckoned  at  last  to  turn  the 
tables  on  their  pursuer  with  a  vengeance. 

The  hot  sun  blazed  down  on  him  as  the  American 


Eleven  to  One  377 

patiently  crept  from  the  shelter  of  one  rock  to  another, 
but  neither  sign  nor  sound  of  his  enemies  could  he 
detect.  Out  on  the  plain  he  could  see  that  his  mare 
had  joined  the  horses  abandoned  by  the  Indians,  and 
was  making  friends  with  them.  They  were  getting 
over  the  effects  of  their  gallop  already,  and  were 
beginning  to  try  a  nibble  at  the  grass. 

"  Make  friends  with  them  as  much  as  you  like,  little 
lady,"  said  he,  apostrophising  the  mare;  "  it 's  all  right 
for  you,  though  I  can't — at  least  not  yet.  There  's 
eleven  thousand  peaceable  Navajos  living  on  their  re- 
servation that  I  'm  quite  ready  to  be  friends  with,  but 
this  band  of  cutthroats  has  got  to  be  wiped  clean  out. 
'  Hit  hard  when  you  do  hit,'  was  old  Grant's  motto  ev- 
ery time,  and  I  reckon  he  knew  pretty  well  what  he 
was  about." 

On  he  moved  again,  warily  searching  each  hole  and 
cranny  where  the  great  rocks  had  fallen  against  each 
other  and  formed  shelters. 

Suddenly,  as  he  paused  a  moment  in  his  advance, 
listening,  there  came  to  his  ears  from  far  away  a  wel- 
come, well-known  sound.  It  was  the  voice  of  a  dog 
giving  tongue  on  the  trail. 

"  Faro,  by  all  the  powers  !  "  he  cried.  "  Why,  he 
must  have  heard  the  shooting  at  the  store  and  come 
a-running  to  see  what  was  up,  and  then  not  finding  me 
there  he  's  taken  the  trail  of  the  mare." 

Straining  his  eyes  he  discerned  a  dark  spot  advanc- 
ing over  the  plain  ;  nearer  it  came  and  nearer,  and 
then  was  heard  a  joyful  bark  of  recognition  as  the  dog 
rushed  up  to  the  head  of  the  grazing  mare  and  greeted 
her  vociferously.  But  soon,  not  finding  with  her  the 
master  whom  he  loved  best  of  all,  he  left  her,  and 
questing  round  he  came  upon  his  trail  where  Stephens 


378  Lone  Pine 

had  dismounted  to  shoot,  and  again  he  eagerly  gave 
tongue  and  came  running  towards  the  rocks.  But  at 
the  body  of  White  Antelope  he  checked. 

"  Now,"  said  Stephens,  standing  with  his  back 
against  a  rock,  with  his  rifle  cocked  and  ready,  "  if 
those  sons  of  guns  lay  themselves  out  to  shoot  him 
they  're  bound  to  give  me  a  chance  to  spot  where  they 
are,  and  I  '11  see  if  I  can't  give  them  what  for." 

Keeping  his  eye  on  the  alert  for  any  move  of  theirs, 
he  gave  a  sharp  whistle.  But  the  hidden  red  men, 
though  they  both  heard  him  and  saw  the  dog,  would 
not  take  the  risk  of  exposing  themselves  to  his  deadly 
aim,  and  in  another  minute  the  excited  bulldog  was 
leaping  up  and  fawning  on  the  master  to  whom  he  was 
devoted,  as  if  to  reproach  him  for  having  left  his  most 
faithful  ally  behind. 

Stephens  patted  and  encouraged  him,  making  him 
understand  that  there  was  game  afoot,  and,  warily  as 
if  stalking  a  deer,  took  him  back  to  where  White  Ante- 
lope lay  stiff  and  stark.  As  he  smelt  the  blood  again 
Faro  growled  and  his  bristles  rose  ;  his  master  encour- 
aged him  till  the  dog  knew  what  he  meant  ;  the  game 
they  were  after  was  not  deer — it  was  men.  He  took  up 
the  scent  of  the  two  Navajos  who  had  escaped  into  the 
rocks,  and  followed  it  with  his  hackles  erect.  In  and 
out  among  the  labyrinth  of  tumbled  rocks  he  led  the 
way,  and  Stephens  kept  up  with  him  as  best  he  could 
without  exposing  himself  too  recklessly.  The  trail 
grew  hotter  and  hotter,  till  on  a  sudden  Faro  turned 
sharply  aside  and  dashed  out  of  sight  behind  a  huge 
boulder  ;  instantly  there  followed  his  loud,  angry  bark, 
and  a  half-stifled  cry  of  human  rage. 

With  his  rifle  raised  nearly  to  his  shoulder,  Stephens 
put  his  head  round  the  angle  of  the  boulder,  to  see  an 


Eleven  to  One  379 

Indian  standing  almost  within  arm's  length  of  him 
with  his  back  against  the  rock,  angrily  striking  with 
his  gun  at  the  dog,  who  was  baying  furiously  as  he 
sprang  from  side  to  side  to  avoid  the  blows.  Stephens 
had  no  time  to  look  around  to  see  where  the  other  red- 
skin was,  for  at  sight  of  him  the  Navajo,  disregarding 
the  dog,  raised  his  rifle  and  fired,  and  the  Winchester 
cracked  almost  in  the  same  instant.  So  close  were  the 
two  to  one  another  that  the  burst  of  flame  and  powder 
smoke  from  the  Indian's  piece  momentarily  blinded  the 
American. 

"  I  must  be  done  for  now,"  was  the  despairing 
thought  that  flashed  through  his  mind  in  the  utter 
helplessness  of  loss  of  sight  ;  yet  he  felt  no  wound,  and 
blind  as  he  was  he  instinctively  threw  in  a  fresh  cart- 
ridge for  a  second  shot.  Then  his  smarting  eyes  began 
to  recover  themselves  ;  hope  came  back  ;  he  was  not 
blinded  ;  he  found  himself  able  to  see  again,  though 
with  difficulty  ;  and  there  at  his  feet  was  the  body  of 
the  Navajo  and  the  dog  worrying  him.  He  flung  him- 
self on  the  pair  to  protect,  if  need  be,  his  ever  faithful 
ally,  but  need  was  none.  His  bullet  had  gone  home, 
and  the  Navajo  was  sped.  He  dragged  the  infuriated 
bulldog  from  his  prey. 

"  L,uck  's  all,"  said  he,  dashing  the  water  from  his 
eyes.  "  I  don't  know  how  I  came  to  plug  him  so 
squarely  ;  I  never  even  saw  the  sights  ;  I  thought  I 
was  a  goner  that  journey,  sure." 

He  looked  around  with  restored  vision  to  try  if  he 
could  descry  the  last  of  the  gang,  but  there  was  no 
sign  of  him  visible  ;  it  seemed  as  if  the  pair  must  either 
have  separated  somehow  before  he  and  Faro  came  up 
to  their  hiding-place,  or  else  the  survivor  had  fled  on 
his  companion's  fall. 


380  Lone  Pine 

"  And  that 's  lucky  for  me,  too,"  said  Stephens,  "  for 
he  could  just  have  socked  it  into  me  as  he  liked  when 
I  was  blinded  with  all  that  powder  smoke." 

"  Come  on  then,  Faro,"  he  continued,  patting  the 
dog,  and  encouraging  him  to  take  up  the  trail  again. 
"  One  more,  and  our  job  's  done.  Hie  on,  old  man, 
he  can't  be  far  away." 

With  eager  pride  the  dog  began  questing  anew  for 
the  scent,  nosing  inquisitively  to  right  and  to  left,  and 
Stephens,  as  before,  followed  him  warily.  They  did 
not  have  to  go  far  before  the  dog's  stiffening  bristles 
showed  that  the  enemy  was  near.  Three  great  de- 
tached masses  of  stone,  fallen  together  haphazard,  so 
bore  against  each  other  as  to  leave  underneath  a  low, 
dark,  cavernous  recess,  and  into  the  mouth  of  this  the 
dog  dashed  without  a  pause.  The  fierce  sounds  of  con- 
flict that  instantly  followed  proved  that  it  was  the 
hiding-place  of  the  hunted  man. 

For  one  anxious  moment  Stephens  doubted  whether 
to  shoot  or  no,  but  standing  outside  in  the  bright  light 
he  could  see  nothing  clear  in  the  dark  recess,  and  to 
shoot  at  random  into  it  was  to  hazard  killing  his  own 
friend.  Then  there  came  a  loud  howl  from  Faro,  and 
unhesitatingly  he  drew  his  knife,  dropped  on  all-fours, 
and  laying  the  rifle  aside  threw  himself  head  first  into 
the  cave,  and  in  the  darkness  grappled  for  his  foe. 
His  left  hand,  thrust  forward,  seized  an  arm  of  the 
other,  and  swiftly  in  reply  came  the  sharp,  cold  pang 
of  a  knife  drawn  across  the  back  of  it,  and  the  warm 
gush  of  blood  following  the  cut.  As  he  felt  the  wound, 
his  right  hand  instinctively  let  gp  of  his  own  knife  and 
seized  the  wrist  of  the  hand  wielding  the  blade  that 
had  cut  him,  the  redskin  frantically  striving  to  get  the 
hand  free  to  deal  him  a  fatal  stab. 


Eleven  to  One  381 

The  two  men  had  clinched  for  the  death-grapple, 
and  in  their  furious  struggles  they  dashed  one  another 
against  the  sides  and  roof  of  the  narrow  cave.  Dear 
life  hung  in  the  balance,  and  both  knew  it  well.  Ste- 
phens's  left  hand  had  no  grip  left  in  it,  but  he  could 
use  the  arm  to  bear  down  his  opponent,  while  his 
strong  right  hand  held  on  like  a  vice  to  the  wrist  it 
had  seized,  and  kept  the  deadly  blade  from  being 
plunged  into  him.  Mute  as  wolves  they  battled  for 
the  mastery  ;  the  sweat  poured  off  them  like  rain,  and 
their  breath  came  in  short,  hard  pants.  Then  with  joy 
Stephens  felt  that  his  right  hand  was  overpowering  his 
enemy's  and  with  all  his  might  he  dashed  the  Indian's 
hand  and  the  knife  it  held  so  violently  against  the 
rough  rock  wall  that  the  blade  snapped  short  off  at  the 
haft.  One  despairing  effort  the  active  red  man  made 
to  twist  himself  clear,  but  in  the  narrow  space  his 
litheness  was  of  no  avail,  and  by  sheer  strength  Ste- 
phens got  him  under  and  turned  him  on  his  face.  A 
short  moment  they  paused,  exhausted  and  breathless, 
when  suddenly  the  American  released  the  other's  wrist 
and  clutched  him  by  the  throat.  Writhe  as  he  might 
the  Indian  could  not  throw  him  off,  nor  relax  that  fatal 
grip  that  was  choking  the  very  life  out  of  him.  Gradu- 
ally he  ceased  to  struggle,  and  Stephens  knew  now  that 
victory  was  his  ;  with  a  filial  effort  he  raised  himself  on 
one  knee  on  the  red  man's  back,  and  quickly  shifting 
the  grip  of  his  right  hand  from  the  throat  to  the  top  of 
the  head,  with  a  sharp,  hard  jerk  and  backward  wrench 
he  broke  his  neck.  A  convulsive  quiver  ran  through 
his  enemy's  limbs,  and  then  died  away.  The  last  of 
the  renegade  gang  was  dead. 

Bruised,  battered,  and  bleeding,  the  victor  dragged 
himself  from  out  the  cave  that  had  so  nearly  been  his 


382  Lone  Pine 

tomb.  The  fight  was  finished,  he  had  no  enemies  left, 
and  he  lay  there  weak  and  unstrung,  his  head  resting 
on  his  blood-stained  hands.  "  Why  can't  men  be 
brothers  ?  "  he  said.  "  But  they  would  have  it.  They 
began.  I  did  n't  want  to  kill  them.  I  wonder  is 
Rocky  dead  ?  They  're  all  good  Indians  now,  any- 
way." 

A  dead  Indian  is  reckoned  a  good  Indian  throughout 
the  West.  He  can  be  trusted  not  to  do  any  mischief. 

His  strength  returning,  he  drew  out  the  body  of  Faro 
from  the  cave,  and  felt  him  all  over  ;  he  had  been 
dashed  senseless  against  the  wall  of  the  cave  and  three 
of  his  ribs  were  injured,  but  his  heart  still  beat  ;  he 
was  not  completely  done  for. 

"  Worth  a  whole  herd  of  dead  dogs  yet,"  said  his 
master,  gently  rubbing  the  brindled  back  which  at  first 
he  had  feared  was  broken.  "  A  blacktail  buck  has 
used  you  up  as  bad  before  now. ' '  He  fondled  his  head, 
and  the  dog,  coming  to,  made  a  feeble  attempt  to  lick 
his  hand.  "  We  '11  find  a  way  to  tote  you  home,  never 
fear,  old  man,"  he  continued  ;  "  and  it 's  odd  if  we  can't 
scare  up  a  nurse  to  fix  you  good  when  we  get  back." 

He  examined  his  own  body  ;  he  was  scraped  and 
skinned  by  the  rough  rocks,  and  his  shirt  was  torn 
half  off  him  in  the  last  struggle  with  the  Indian  ;  but 
except  for  the  one  severe  knife-gash,  which  he  carefully 
bound  up,  he  had  no  serious  wound. 

He  looked  for  his  mare.  She  was  grazing  peacefully 
where  he  had  left  her,  with  her  bridle  trailing,  as  a 
hunter's  horse  should  do.  He  looked  away  beyond 
her,  far  across  the  burning  plain. 

"  I  've  played  this  hand  alone,"  said  he  ;  "  but  I  'm 
thinking  it  's  getting  about  time  for  those  San  Remo 
folks  to  chip  in." 


Eleven  to  One  383 

And  then  in  the  distance,  through  the  shimmering 
mirage  that  wavered  before  the  eye,  he  saw  a  little 
cloud  of  dust  arise  like  a  travelling  whirlwind. 

He  watched  it  ;  it  was  not  one  of  nature's  whirl- 
winds, for  it  came  straight  on  up  the  trail,  fast  and 
steady.  Men  made  that  whirlwind,  and  soon  they 
were  near  enough  to  be  distinguished. 

It  was  Don  Andres  and  a  strong  band  of  Mexicans 
riding  like  the  Old  Harry  to  the  rescue. 

' '  But  I  played  it  alone,  for  all  that, ' '  he  said. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

WITH    HONOUR 


WHEN  the  death-shriek  of  Mahletonkwa  startled 
the  dwellers  in  the  Casa  Sanchez,  the  sound 
was  so  strange,  so  unearthly,  that  they  sprang  to  their 
feet  in  terror.  What  new  ill  had  fallen  upon  the  vil- 
lage !  That  could  be  no  human  cry.  It  seemed  to 
their  terrified  imaginations  that  some  evil  spirit  from 
the  other  world  had  come  to  add  a  crowning  horror  to 
their  troubles. 

"It  is  the  devil,"  they  murmured,  crossing  them- 
selves with  trembling  prayers  —  "  the  devil  has  come  to 
carry  away  el  defunto.  Que  los  Santos  nos  ayuden.'1'' 

But  when  the  blood-curdling  shriek  was  followed  by 
a  succession  of  rapid  pistol-shots  and  the  cries  of  those 
who  fell  before  the  American's  unerring  aim,  they 
knew  that  it  was  a  conflict  of  a  more  earthly  sort.  The 
men  snatched  up  their  arms  and  dashed  out  of  the 
house,  ready  for  attack  or  defence,  and  were  followed 
to  the  door  by  the  trembling  women,  while  Stephens'  s 
dog  darted  away  on  his  master's  trail. 

This  last  alarm  was  too  much  for  Manuelita.  Her 
nerves  were  still  quivering  from  the  terrors  of  her  own 
captivity,  and  now  fears  for  her  deliverer  overwhelmed 
her.  She  knew  the  American  was  at  the  store,  —  he 
was  surely  killed  ;  the  blow  that  had  threatened  them 

384 


Peace  with   Honour  385 

had  fallen  at  last,  not  on  the  family  but  on  their  friend. 
She  tried  to  run,  but  her  trembling  limbs  refused  to 
bear  her,  and  she  sank  to  the  ground  in  a  passion  of 
sobs  ;  brave  she  could  be  for  her  own  danger,  but  not 
for  him,  not  for  the  man  who  had  just  left  her,  whose 
eyes  had  told  her  a  secret  she  hardly  let  herself  guess. 

She  raised  her  head  and  heard  the  shuffling  of  feet, 
and  the  sound  of  subdued  voices  came  nearer  to  her. 
In  the  doorway  appeared  her  father,  anxious  and 
flurried.  "  Hasten,  sister,"  he  called  in  a  loud  half- 
whisper  to  her  aunt,  "  hasten  and  make  a  bed  in  the 
room  across  the  patio  for  a  wounded  man.  The  Nava- 
jos  are  on  the  war-path,  and  an  American  has  been 
hurt." 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  asked  his  sister,  answering  him  in 
the  same  excited  half- whisper,  as  the  ominous  shuffling 
steps  of  Rocky 's  bearers  reached  the  outside  of  the  door 
and  paused.  "  Is  he  dying  ?  Quick  there,  Juana,  run 
and  bring  bedding  ;  fly  !  " 

Manuelita's  heart  seemed  to  stop  beating  as  she 
listened  for  the  answer. 

' '  I  know  not  who  he  is.  They  say  he  is  a  friend  of 
Don  Estevan's.  He  had  but  just  arrived  from  Santa 
Fe\  There  is  a  doctor  of  the  American  soldiers  with 
him.  Mahletonkwa  stabbed  him  in  the  lung." 

Manuelita  tried  to  ask,  "  And  what  of  Don  Este- 
van  ?  "  but  her  dry  lips  refused  to  speak  the  words. 
Her  father  answered  the  unspoken  question. 

"  Don  Estevan  is  like  a  raging  lion.  He  has  killed 
Mahletonkwa  and  half  his  band  already,  and  he  is 
chasing  the  rest.  Ah,  what  a  fighter  !  They  say  he 
fired  off  his  pistol  like  lightning,  and  left  the  savages 
lying  all  around  like  dead  dogs  in  a  heap  as  if  a  thun- 
derbolt from  heaven  had  struck  them.  Ah,  what  a 
35 


386  Lone  Pine 

fighter!  The  young  men  are  all  galloping  after  to  help 
him." 

' '  He  is  not  wounded  himself  ? ' '  They  were  already 
in  the  room  across  the  patio  preparing  it  for  the 
wounded  man,  and  it  was  the  voice  of  Manuelita  that 
asked  this  question.  Her  tongue  had  found  speech  at 
last. 

"  Well,  it  is  not  known  precisely,"  said  Don  Nepo- 
muceno.  "  He  started  off  after  them  like  fury,  and  so 
did  the  two  young  Sandovals,  and  then  there  was  more 
firing  out  on  the  plain,  but  it  is  not  certain  as  yet  what 
happened  there.  The  doctor  of  the  American  soldiers 
wished  to  place  the  wounded  Americano  with  us  at 
once,  and  I  did  not  wait.  Ah,  here  they  are,  bringing 
him  through  the  court.  This  way,  Senor  el  Doctor. 
Here  is  the  room  for  him.  Is  he  much  hurt  ?  " 

"  Pretty  bad,"  replied  the  doctor  in  Spanish,  which 
he  knew  that  Rocky,  who  was  still  conscious,  did  not 
understand.  ' '  But  we  shall  see.  With  proper  nursing 
there  should  be  a  good  chance  for  him  yet. ' ' 

With  gentle  hands  Rocky  was  laid  upon  the  couch 
arranged  for  him,  and  attended  to  by  the  doctor  and 
the  women-folk,  while  Don  Nepomuceno,  in  his  eager- 
ness to  be  of  service,  succeeded  only  in  getting  in 
everybody's  way  and  making  a  wholly  unnecessary  fuss. 

"  Run,  Juana,  run.  Bring  a  bowl  with  water  for  the 
doctor  ;  cold  water,  mind  you — hot,  did  you  say,  Doc- 
tor ? — hot  water,  then,  Juana,  hot  from  the  fire.  And 
a  towel,  a  clean  towel,  child — two  towels;  and  be  quick, 
quick  !  How  slow  you  are  !  ' ' 

Rap,  rap,  rap,  came  loud,  imperative  knocks  upon 
the  outer  door  of  the  house,  which  had  been  made  fast 
again  after  the  limp  form  of  Rocky  had  been  brought 
inside.  Don  Nepomuceno  flew  to  open  it  himself. 


Peace  with  Honour  387 

"Hush,  hush!  Who  is  there?  Eh?  What? 
Another  man  hurt  ?  Ave  Maria  purisima,  I  hope  it  is 
not  Don  Estevan."  His  fingers  fumbled  with  the 
bolts  in  his  haste  to  unbar.  "  No,  you  say,  not  him. 
Who  is  it,  then  ?  One  of  the  Sandovals  shot  with  an 
arrow.  And  you  wish  for  the  doctor  of  the  American 
soldiers  to  come  and  cure  him  ?  Come  in,  then,  come 
in," — the  door  opened  as  he  spoke, — "  come  in  and 
speak  to  the  doctor  yourself.  Poor  young  Sandoval  ; 
an  arrow  right  through  his  shoulder,  you  say.  And 
Don  Estevan  was  not  hit  ?  Oh,  he  killed  the  Indian 
that  shot  young  Sandoval,  did  he  ?  Ah,  what  a  lion 
of  a  man !  What  a  fighter  indeed!  "  and  bursting  with 
this  fresh  piece  of  news  he  ran  across  the  patio  to  tell 
the  doctor  that  his  services  were  in  request  for  another 
patient. 

"  It  looks  to  me,"  said  Doctor  Benton  to  himself,  as, 
after  doing  all  he  could  for  Rocky's  comfort,  he  hur- 
ried with  the  messenger  towards  the  house  where 
young  Sandoval  was  lying,  "at  this  rate,  it  looks  to  me 
as  if  I  was  going  to  get  more  surgical  practice  in  San 
Remo  in  a  day  than  I  'm  likely  to  see  at  Fort  Wingate 
in  a  month." 

The  slow  hours  passed,  and  the  hot  midday  sun 
blazed  down  on  the  village  ;  even  the  dogs  retreated 
indoors  to  find  a  cool  corner,  and  the  hens  retired  from 
scratching  on  the  dust-heaps  ;  the  place  seemed  asleep, 
save  where  a  few  anxious  watchers  kept  their  faces 
steadily  turned  towards  the  mirage  that  flickered  over 
the  plain,  towards  the  horizon  beyond  which  the  young 
men  had  disappeared.  The  shaded  room  where  Manuel- 
ita  sat  by  Rocky's  couch  was  cool  and  silent  and  rest- 
ful, but  there  was  no  rest  in  the  girl's  dark  eyes  ;  their 


388  Lone  Pine 

liquid  depths  burnt  with  a  dark  fire,  and  the  scarlet 
spot  on  her  cheeks,  and  the  feverish  start  she  gave  at 
the  slightest  sound  outside  the  door  showed  that  she 
was  not  the  impassive  and  self-controlled  sick-nurse 
that  Doctor  Benton  fondly  imagined  he  had  discovered, 
by  some  Heaven-sent  miracle,  in  this  remote  corner  of 
New  Mexico.  But  whatever  inward  fire  burnt  in  her 
eyes  and  fevered  her  cheeks,  her  hand  never  faltered 
in  its  task  of  fanning  the  sick  man,  and  her  ear  noted 
his  slightest  breath.  Yet,  with  the  curious  double  con- 
sciousness that  comes  to  us  when  the  nerves  are  tense 
with  strain,  she  was  all  the  time  far  away — riding,  rid- 
ing, riding  at  speed  over,  the  dusty  levels  of  the  Agua 
Negra  valley,  up  through  the  pine-clad  gorges  of  the 
sierra,  seeking  everywhere  for  the  form  of  a  tall,  fair- 
haired  man — no,  Madre  de  Dios,  not  for  his  corpse,  not 
for  that  !  ah,  no  !  some  instinct  would  tell  her,  some 
kindly  angel  would  whisper  to  her,  if  that  were  true. 
But.no,  that  could  not  be.  He  was  alive,  he  was  deal- 
ing death  with  that  terrible  rifle  of  his  to  the  foe  ;  like 
an  avenging  whirlwind  he  was  sweeping  from  the  face 
of  the  earth  those  savages  who  had  carried  her  off,  who 
had  tried  to  murder  her  brother,  who  had  murdered 
that  poor  solitary  prospector, — ay,  and  who  could  say 
how  many  more  ?  Merciful  saints,  what  had  they  all 
not  suffered  from  them  !  And  now  a  deliverer  had 
been  sent  to  them  by  Heaven,  a  very  St.  Jago,  like 
their  own  fair-haired  saint,  with  his  bright  armour,  in 
the  chapel. 

And  while  she  dreamed,  and  while  her  hand  moved 
mechanically  with  the  fan,  her  ear  was  still  alert,  and 
it  brought  its  tidings.  There  was  a  murmur  in  the 
air,  a  movement  without  ;  the  village  stirred,  and  there 
were  sounds  far  off.  She  heard  a  shout,  several  shouts, 


Peace  with   Honour  389 

a  shot — ah  heavens,  not  a  shot  again  ! — yes,  numbers 
of  shots,  mingled  with  vivas  and  cries  of  joy  ;  it  was  a 
lively  feu  dejoie,  like  that  from  the  procession  on  the 
feast  day  of  St.  Jago  himself.  The  shouts  came  nearer, 
they  would  waken  her  patient — oh,  she  must  look  one 
moment. 

And,  in  truth,  when  she  looked  out  it  was  a  sight  to 
see.  The  little  plaza  had  fairly  gone  off  its  head  with 
excitement  ;  the  women  wrapped  in  their  rebosos,  and 
eager  hurrying  children,  and  grey-bearded  men,  too 
old  now  for  work  or  fight,  and  •  unkempt,  barefooted 
peons,  all  bustling  and  crowding  together  in  one  place, 
laughing  and  crying  at  once,  and  asking  questions  to 
which  nobody  made  answer  ;  and  in  the  centre  a  party 
of  mounted  caballeros,  their  silver  buttons  and  spurs 
glinting  in  the  bright  sunshine,  shouting  and  firing 
off  pistols,  and  yelling  as  if  they  were  possessed. 

' '  Peace,  peace,  amigos, ' '  the  voice  of  Don  Nepomu- 
ceno  was  heard  crying  amid  the  babel  of  tongues  ;  "  a 
moment's  peace,  I  pray  you.  This  is  pure  madness." 
But  no  one  heeded  his  words. 

' '  Viva  !  viva  !  ' '  yelled  the  young  men  ;  ' '  here  he  is, 
behold  him,  the  guerrero  Americano,  the  slayer  of  the 
Indians."  And  in  the  middle  of  them,  his  left  arm  in 
a  sling,  bloodstained,  dishevelled,  and  in  rags,  sat  Ste- 
phens on  his  mare  ;  his  brain  was  reeling  ;  the  intense 
energy  that  had  possessed  him  in  the  hour  of  the  fight 
had  gone,  and  left  him  a  worn  and  weary  man. 

Manuelita's  heart  leapt  at  the  sight  of  him.  He  was 
alive  and,  though  wounded,  he  was  able  to  sit  his 
horse  ;  his  hurts,  then,  could  not  be  desperate. 

' '  Peace,  peace,  amigos, ' '  reiterated  Don  Nepomuceno. 
' '  See  you  not  that  Don  Estevan  is  weary  to  the  death  ? 
Santisima  Virgen  !  but  you  forget  that  he  is  wounded, 


39°  Lone  Pine 

too  ;  yes,  and  look  how  the  very  clothes  have  been  torn 
from  his  back. — Dismount,  then,  Don  Estevan,  and  let 
me  help  you.  Come  inside,  and  you  shall  be  attended 
to  instantly."  His  eye  fell  upon  the  Indian  boy  beside 
him.  "  Here  you,  Felipe,  run  to  the  house  of  the 
Sandovals  and  see  if  the  American  doctor  is  there  still, 
and  tell  him  that  there  is  yet  another  patient  for  him 
to  attend  to  here.  This  way,  Don  Estevan.  Excuse 
me,  friends,  you  will  not  go  till  you  have  taken  a  cup 
of  wine  with  me,  but  I  must  see  to  Don  Estevan  first. 
Ah,  no  noise  now,  for  the  sake  of  the  sick  man  within. 
My  house  is  purely  a  hospital  now.  Angels  of  grace  ! 
but  what  agitation,  what  events  !  This  way,  Don 
Estevan,  if  you  please.  Patience,  friends.  By  your 
leave,  I  beg  the  silence  of  one  little  moment.  Sister, 
sister,  bring  a  change  of  clothes  for  Don  Estevan  ;  his 
are  all  torn  to  pieces  in  the  fight  ;  bring  my  best 
clothes,  my  feast-day  clothes,  out  of  the  great  chest  in 
the  inner  room.  Hurry,  hurry  !  And  water  to  wash 
the  blood  from  him.  Bring  water,  Juana  ;  fly  !  " 

Like  a  man  in  a  dream  Stephens  got  off  his  horse  and 
entered  the  house.  The  Navajo  bondmaid  hastened  in 
answer  to  her  master's  call  and  brought  water  to  wash 
the  blood  of  her  kinsfolk  from  the  hands  of  the  Ameri- 
can. Passively  he  submitted  himself  to  her  care,  and 
to  that  of  Don  Nepomuceno,  who  attended  to  him  with 
bustling  little  airs  of  proprietorship,  as  if  the  prospector 
were  his  own  private  property,  his  own  victorious 
gamecock  who  had  won  the  main  for  him  and  beaten 
everything  in  the  pit.  He  was  so  pleased  with  his 
office  and  proud  of  his  guest  that  he  hardly  noticed 
how  unlike  the  American  was  to  his  alert  and  master- 
ful, everyday  self.  The  transformation  effected,  he  joy- 
fully ushered  him  into  the  living-room.  "  Dinner, 


Peace  with   Honour  391 

sister,  dinner,"  he  called  out  ;  "  a  feast,  we  must  have 
a  feast.  Andres,  some  wine.  Here  is  the  key.  Some 
of  the  wine  of  El  Paso  from  the  farthest  cask.  We 
must  drink  a  health  to-day." 

But  as  he  placed  Stephens  on  the  divan  it  struck  him 
suddenly  that  the  American  looked  strange.  His  face 
was  white  and  drawn,  and  there  was  a  dull,  abstracted 
look  in  his  eyes. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  friend,  you  are  overdone  ;  you  are 
worn  out  with  your  heroic  deeds.  One  little  moment 
only,  and  you  shall  dine." 

' '  You  are  very  kind, ' '  said  Stephens,  sinking  down 
on  the  soft  seat,  "  but  I  could  n't  eat,  thank  you, — not 
yet." 

"  Ah,  my  poor  head,"  cried  the  Mexican,  "  how  I 
forget  things;  you  are  so  anxious  for  your  friend  doubt- 
less. But  he  is  doing  well,  very  well,  I  do  assure  you. 
He  speaks  of  you  ;  he  says  you  are  a  millionaire, — that 
you  have  found  the  silver  mine  of  the  Indians.  Oh 
yes,  you  shall  see  him  when  he  wakes.  My  daughter 
is  taking  charge  of  him  now.  Yes,  and  the  other 
wounded  man,  young  Sandoval,  is  doing  well  too. 
There  is  no  need  of  any  anxiety.  You  must  rest  ;  yes, 
rest,  and  eat  and  drink  and  be  merry  !  " 

Stephens  seemed  to  rouse  himself  with  a  great  effort. 
"  Don  Nepomuceno,"  he  spoke  with  a  dull,  thick, 
voice,  "  I  don't  think  I  can  stay  now.  I  had  ought  to 
go  right  back  to  the  pueblo.  There  's  some  more 
business  I  have  ;  there  's  a  girl  there,  the  cacique's 
daughter " 

"  Ah,  what  need  to  remember  her!  "  cried  the  Mexi- 
can with  a  sudden  flash  of  irritation.  "  Of  course  I 
have  heard — but  what  do  mere  Indians  matter  ?  Be- 
tween ourselves,  what  does  all  that  amount  to  ?  No- 


392  Lone  Pine 

thing,  absolutely  nothing."  He  snapped  his  fingers 
with  contempt,  as  if  to  brush  it  all  away. 

"  Yes,  but  look  here,  Don  Nepomuceno,  business  is 
business.  I  've  undertaken  to  run  her  show,  and  I  'in 
bound  to  see  it  through.  I  took  her  away  from  her 
father  because  he  was  half-murdering  her,  and  I  want 
to  see  her  safe  married  to  this  cub  of  mine  here, — 
what  's  his  name  ?  I  shall  forget  my  own  next, — oh 
yes,  Felipe,  that  's  it,  of  course — to  see  her  married  to 
Felipe.  I  'd  better  get  it  done  right  away,  else  I  might 
forget,  you  know  " ;  he  looked  around  vaguely  with  an 
incoherent  half-laugh,  checked  himself  with  an  effort, 
and  collected  himself  again.  "  If  there  was  a  padre 
handy,  how  about  doing  it  here? — "  He  broke  off 
confusedly. 

Don  Nepomuceno  looked  puzzled. 

' '  But  why  trouble  over  these  matters  now  ?  Any 
time  will  do  for  those  Indians.  But  if  you  wish  it,  cer- 
tainly I  will  send  to  the  pueblo.  You  cannot  go  ;  you 
are  overwearied.  You  want  this  girl  to  come  here  ? 
But  no  ;  I  have  a  better  plan.  The  padre  is  here  in 
San  Remo  to-day,  as  it  happens  ;  let  us  send  him 
there,  and  you  shall  be  troubled  no  further  by  her." 

Even  Stephens' s  dulled  brain  could  not  but  notice 
something  odd  in  the  Mexican's  tone.  "  Oh,  Lord," 
he  groaned  internally,  "  they  all  give  me  the  name 
of  it  !  " 

"  See  here,  Don  Nepomuceno.  I  guess  that  Backus 
has  been  talking  some  about  me.  He  's  dead,  but  I ' ve 
got  to  say  it — he  was  a  darned  liar,  anyway  ;  and  he 
knew  nothing  about  this  business  but  what  he  invented 
for  himself.  She  's  not  my  girl.  I  'm  not  that  sort  of 
a  man."  He  stopped  abruptly. 

"  Assuredly  not,"  assented  the  Mexican  with  eager 


Peace  with   Honour  393 

courtesy.  "  You  say  so,  and  that  is  enough  for  us  ; 
though,  indeed,  we  are  ourselves  not  always  so  scrupul- 
ous in  these  matters." 

"  Felipe  bolted  with  her,"  said  the  brain-weary  man, 
going  over  past  events  almost  mechanically  ;  "  her 
father  took  her  from  him;  I  took  her  from  her  father, 
and  I  've  promised  to  give  her  over  to  Felipe.  He  's  a 
plumb  idiot,  but  if  she  likes  him  that  's  her  lookout. 
My  business  is  to  see  them  married  and  make  it  all 
square.  When  I  take  any  business  in  hand,  I  can't 
rest  till  I  get  it  done.  I  '11  take  you  to  witness,  Don 
Nepomuceno  ;  I  '11  give  them  ten  cows  and  calves  on 
the  shares  to  set  'em  up  in  housekeeping." 

"  But  certainly,"  exclaimed  Don  Nepomuceno,"  your 
kindness  is  admirable.  It  is  a  deed  of  charity  !  It  was 
but  last  time  his  Grace  the  Archbishop  of  Santa  Fe  was 
dining  with  my  cousin  that  he  spoke  of  the  admirable 
goodness  of  Dona  Mariana  Chavez  in  giving  dowers  to 
poor  maidens.  And  now  you  will  be  so  rich  with  the 
profits  of  your  mine  that  you  may  dower  all  the  Indian 
maidens  in  the  pueblo  if  you  like.  In  truth,  such  a 
deed  must  be  pleasing  to  the  saints  ;  it  will  fill  our 
padre  with  admiration  to  hear  of  such  a  truly  virtuous 
action,  '  worthy  of  one  of  the  pillars  of  our  holy 
Church  !'  " 

' '  Much  more  like  the  heavy  father  at  the  end  of  a 
play  !  "  muttered  Stephens  perversely.  "  '  Bless  you, 
my  children,'  and  down  comes  the  curtain.  I  reckon 
I  'm  a  bit  young  to  play  the  part.  Hang  it  all  !  I  wish 
the  old  gentleman  would  stop." 

Don  Nepomuceno  turned  to  the  peon.  "  Here, 
Pedro,  hasten  ;  ride  to  the  pueblo,  and  take  the  old 
woman  along  and  fetch  the  girl, — Josefa,  you  say  ? — 
yes  ;  go,  then,  and  fetch  her  and  tell  her  she  is  to  be 


394  Lone  Pine 

married  at  once.  Say  that  those  are  the  orders  of  the 
Americano.  But  first  you  can  tell  Rufino  to  go  and 
find  the  padre — bid  him  hasten  as  dinner  is  served," 
he  rubbed  his  hands  exultingly  as  his  sister  and  Juana 
brought  in  the  long-desired  feast,  and  Andres  appeared 
with  an  old  flagon  which  he  had  filled  with  El  Paso 
wine.  Don  Nepomuceno  poured  some  into  a  glass  and 
offered  it  to  Stephens.  "  Drink,  my  friend,  drink  ; 
you  need  it,  and  we  will  all  drink  a  cup  in  your 
honour." 

Stephens  took  the  glass  and  looked  with  a  grim  smile 
at  his  own  hand  which  held  it.  The  hand  was  shaking 
like  an  old  man's.  "  I  guess  I  've  about  wore  myself 
plumb  out,"  he  said.  '  You  'd  best  let  me  go  off  to 
my  own  place  and  rest.  I  'm  not  good  company  iust 
now. ' ' 

"  No,  no,  you  must  n't  go,"  cried  the  Mexican  ; 
' '  you  shall  rest  in  my  house.  We  have  more  rooms 
than  one.  And  behold,  here  is  the  American  doctor 
now.  In  a  good  hour  you  come,  Senor  el  Doctor.  Sit 
you  down,  my  friends,  and  eat.  Sister,  you  and  Andres 
will  entertain  them  while  the  doctor  and  I  take  care  of 
Don  Estevau."  And  he  took  his  unresisting  guest 
apart  into  a  quiet  room  where  Doctor  Benton  might 
examine  his  wounded  hand.  Gently  the  rude  bandages 
were  undone,  and  Manuelita  was  summoned  from  her 
post  beside  Rocky,  who  was  now  sleeping  peacefully, 
to  wait  on  a  new  patient. 

Bravely  she  looked  on  while  the  doctor  cleansed  the 
wound  and  produced  his  curved  needles  and  silk  and 
sewed  up  the  gash. 

"  You  '11  do  all  right  so,  I  guess,"  said  he  to  the 
prospector  when  he  had  finished.  "  You  've  got  to 
keep  quiet,  you  know,  and  knock  off  whiskey." 


Peace  with   Honour  395 

("  Never  touch  it,"  growled  Stephens,  in  an  under- 
tone.) "  Right  you  are,  stick  to  that," — the  doctor 
had  a  flask  of  old  Bourbon  himself  in  his  pocket  at  the 
moment, — "  worst  thing  out  for  inflammation.  Well, 
you  look  as  if  you  were  in  good  hands  here,"  he  smiled 
as  he  spoke.  "  I  am  going  back  to  the  Sandovals  now. 
It  's  a  very  interesting  case  that  I  've  got  over  there. 
We  don't  get  arrow-wounds  very  often  nowadays." 
He  folded  up  his  surgical  case  with  its  wicked-looking 
little  shining  blades.  "  The  stage  has  gone  on  to 
Wingate,"  he  continued,  "  and  they  '11  have  to  get 
along  without  me  at  the  Fort  for  a  day  or  two  longer. 
I  '11  be  back  again  here  in  the  evening  and  have  an- 
other look  at  you  and  at  our  friend  Rocky.  You 
need  n't  fret  about  him  ;  the  knife  only  just  touched 
the  lung  ;  he  's  going  to  get  over  it  all  right,  though 
at  the  same  time  I  think  we  'd  best  not  disturb  him 
now." 

"  But  you  must  not  go  till  you  have  dined,"  cried 
Don  Nepomuceno  hospitably.  ' '  Do  me  the  honour  to 
come  into  the  other  room  and  join  our  friends  there  "  ; 
and  the  doctor  yielded  to  the  request  readily  enough. 

Don  Nepomuceno  lingered  behind  him  for  a  moment. 

' '  Now  you  must  repose  yourself,  Don  Estevan.  Here 
you  will  be  undistubed.  Manuelita  is  going  to  sit  by 
the  door  and  sing  to  our  guests,  and  there  is  nothing 
more  reposeful  than  singing.  Take  your  guitar,  my 
daughter,  and  sit  here  and  we  can  enjoy  it  as  we  take 
our  dinner."  He  passed  through  the  door  as  Manuel- 
ita slid  the  ribbon  of  her  guitar  over  her  shoulder  and 
struck  a  chord. 

She  sang — who  knows  how  the  song  had  reached 
her  ? — words  that  had  travelled  far,  and  were  first 
written  in  another  tongue  by  a  poet  of  another  race, 


396  Lone  Pine 

but  when  she  heard  them  they  seemed  to  tell  her 
a  whole  sad  and  beautiful  history  in  the  two  short 
verses,  and  she  found  the  plaintive  tune  of  an  old 
ballad  that  suited  them,  and  sung  them  often  to  her- 
self. Now,  called  upon  unexpectedly  to  sing,  the 
favourite  words  were  on  her  lips  almost  before  she 
knew  what  they  were — 

"  Solitario  se  alza  un  pino, 

Del  Norte  en  arida  cumbre  ; 
Duerme,  y  con  blanca  cubierta 
Hielos  y  nieves  le  cubren. 

"  Suena  con  una  paltnera 

Que  en  el  Oriente,  alia  lejos, 
Se  entristece  sola  y  muda 
En  el  ardiente  desierto." 

The  notes  mingled  in  the  tired  American's  dreamy 
thoughts,  and  through  his  unstrung  mind  coursed 
strange  fanciful  applications  of  the  poet's  words — 

"  A  lone  pine  stands  in  the  Northland 

On  a  bald  and  barren  height ; 

He  sleeps,  by  the  snows  enfolded 

In  a  mantle  of  wintry  white." 

"  '  A  lone  pine' — that  's  so,  a  lone  pine  like  that 
one  over  the  prospector's  grave.  I  reckon  if  that  lode 
there  turns  out  all  that  Rocky  said  I  '11  have  to  call  it 
Lone  Pine.  Suits  me,  too,  the  name  does ;  I  've 
always  played  a  lone  hand  ;  ay,  and  I  know  what  the 
barren  mountain  heights  are,  if  any  man  ever  did,  and 
many  's  the  time  I  've  slept  on  them  with  the  snow 
over  me  for  a  blanket  — ' ' 

"  He  dreams  of  a  lonely  palm-tree 
Afar  in  the  morning  land  " — 


Peace  with  Honour  397 

"  '  He  dreams  of  a  palm-tree '— no,  that  's  not  me, 
after  all.  I  have  n't  dreamt  much.  Yes,  by  thun- 
der, I  have  though  !  I  dreamt  some  up  in  the  sierra. 
I  dreamt  a  lot  of  queer  things  by  that  old  cliff-dweller's 
fire  I  relit  after  I  found  the  L,one  Pine  ;  I  thought  this 
whole  New  Mexican  country  here  was  asleep,  and  that 
maybe  I  was  the  man  to  wake  her  up.  Ah,  and  I 
thought,  too,  that  I  must  have  been  asleep  myself  to 
have  played  a  lone  hand  so  long  when  I  need  n't, 
when  I  might  have  had  a  woman's  love,  and  got  some 
joy  and  happiness  into  life  instead  of  toughing  it  out 
in  solitude.  I  believe  I  've  been  a  blamed  idiot." 

He  listened  as  in  a  trance  to  the  throbbing,  wailing 
strings,  while  the  sweet  voice  of  the  girl  sang  the  last 
verse  a  second  time — 

"  He  dreams  of  a  lonely  palm-tree, 

Afar  in  the  morning  land, 
Consumed  with  unspoken  longing 
In  a  waste  of  burning  sand." 

By  Heaven  !  had  she  been  alone  too  ?  He  almost 
sprang  up  to  call  to  her,  but  it  seemed  to  him  he  could 
not  move.  He  stood  on  a  lonely  height  under  the  pine- 
tree  ;  he  looked  down  on  the  grave  of  the  man  who  had 
died  there  alone,  and  far  away  in  a  vision  he  beheld  San 
Remo  and  the  Casa  Sanchez  ;  and  he  saw  more — he  saw 
Manuelita.  He  could  not  break  the  spell  and  stand 
beside  her  there.  He  had  had  his  chance,  and  now  it 
was  too  late.  He  had  dreamt  through  the  summer, 
and  now  the  winter  had  come,  and  its  icy  fetters  bound 
him  fast.  Immovable  on  his  crag  he  could  only  dream 
—  dream  of  the  happiness  that  might  have  been  his, 
and  long  for  it  with  a  passionate  desire  that  seemed  as 
if  it  could  burst  the  very  mountains  to  let  him  pass, 


398  Lone  Pine 

and  yet  was  powerless  to  bring  him  an  inch  nearer  to 
the  spot  that  he  longed  for.  The  numbness  of  despair 
came  upon  him,  his  bewildered  thoughts  sank  deeper 
into  dreamland,  and  the  tired  brain  at  last  was  steeped 
in  all-restoring  forgetfulness. 

He  awoke  suddenly  with  a  start,  the  room  was  empty ; 
the  subdued  voices  came  to  him  through  the  open 
door,  but  the  guests  were  gone.  How  long  had  he 
slept  ?  For  answer  he  saw  the  scarlet  light  of  sunset 
glowing  on  the  adobe  wall  across  the  patio. 

He  sprang  up  like  a  giant  refreshed  and  looked 
around,  while  the  memory  of  what  had  taken  place  be- 
gan to  come  back  to  him.  "  I  must  have  been  here  for 
hours  and  hours.  Her  singing  was  like  a  charm.  But 
where  has  she  gone  to  ?  I  've  got  to  find  her  again 
right  away.  Why  on  earth  did  I  lie  there  like  a  log  all 
this  time  ?  What  have  I  been  doing  all  day,  anyhow  ? ' ' 

He  looked  at  his  bandaged  left  hand,  and  passed  his 
right  over  his  forehead,  and  as  his  brain  cleared  the 
whole  of  the  morning's  work  came  back  to  him  like  a 
flash. 

' '  I  had  to  kill  them,  but  I  hate  to  think  of  it  now. 
It  was  a  butcherly  job.  That 's  not  the  way  I  want  to 
live.  Yes,  I  hate  it,"  he  repeated,  standing  in  the 
middle  of  the  empty  room.  He  felt  an  unreasoning 
repulsion  when  he  thought  of  the  light-minded  crowd 
that  had  cheered  him  so  wildly  on  his  return  from  the 
slaughter,  and  had  laughed  and  jested  over  it.  "  Kill- 
ing men  is  a  mighty  serious  matter,  whatever  they  may 
think, ' '  he  muttered  gloomily,  ' '  but  most  of  these  folks 
don't  see  it  in  that  light.  She  's  different,  though,  and 
it  's  .she  that  I  want,  and  not  her  people.  Now,  how 
am  I  going  to  find  her  alone  ? ' ' 


Peace  with   Honour  399 

As  he  stood  there  the  faint  whine  of  a  dog  caught 
his  ear. 

"  Faro,  old  man  !  Think  of  my  forgetting  you  and 
your  wounds  when  there  's  no  one  to  see  after  you  but 
me!  I  must  have  been  off  my  nut."  He  strode  out 
through  the  door,  and  beheld  in  the  adjoining  room 
his  dog  snugly  established  on  a  pile  of  blankets  with 
all  the  dignity  of  a  spoilt  invalid,  and  there,  kneeling 
beside  him,  her  glossy  head  bent  over  the  bulldog's 
picturesquely  ugly  face,  was  Manuelita. 

"  I  made  the  doctor  of  the  soldiers  look  at  him,"  she 
said,  glancing  up  at  the  tall  American  with  a  shy 
laugh.  ' '  He  was  almost  angry  when  I  asked  him,  and 
said  he  was  no  doctor  of  dogs  ;  but  I  made  him  do  it  " ; 
and  she  gave  another  little  laugh  of  triumph. 

' '  I  reckon  you  could  make  most  people  do  what  you 
say,  sefiorita,"  he  answered,  but  he  did  not  echo  her 
laugh.  He  stood  there  looking  down  at  her,  and  as  he 
looked  a  great  peace  seemed  to  descend  upon  him.  The 
anger  and  the  strain,  the  battle-fury  and  the  revulsion 
that  followed  it,  all  seemed  to  pass  away  from  his  mind, 
and  a  reverent  awe  came  over  his  soul  as  though  he  had 
entered  into  a  sanctuary,  a  sanctuary  where  even  his 
own  honest  love  showed  to  him  as  earthly  and  selfish, 
whence  every  thought  but  one  was  banished,  the 
thought  of  a  woman  inexpressibly  gentle  and  good, 
with  a  tender  heart  for  every  living  thing.  With  a 
sudden  movement  he  caught  her  hand  in  his  own,  and 
hers  so  soft  and  innocent  lay  in  his  so  lately  red  with 
enemies'  blood. 

He  knelt  on  one  knee,  and  bowed  his  head  and  lifted 
the  captive  hand  to  his  lips. 

"  I  am  not  fit  to  come  near  you,"  he  said,  "  but  un- 
less I  have  you,  I  can  never  care  for  anything  in  the 


400  Lone  Pine 

whole  world  again.  I  am  an  uncouth  ruffian,  I  know  ; 
but  if  you  will  teach  me,  I  will  learn  to  be  gentle  in 
time.  Will  you  try  me  ?  " 

He  turned  his  face  to  hers,  her  lips  met  his,  and  the 
compact  was  sealed. 


FINIS 


IRew  jfiction. 


Agatha  Webb. 

By  ANNA  KATHARINE  GREEN,  author  of  "The  Leaven- 
worth  Case,"  "That  Affair  Next  Door,"  etc.  12°, 
cloth,  $1.25. 

"  This  is  a  cleverly  concocted  detective  story,  and  sustains  ^the  well- 
earned  reputation  of  the  writer.  .  .  .  The  curiosity  of  the  reader  is  excited 
and  sustained  to  the  close." — Brooklyn  Citizen. 

''Agatha  Webb  is  as  Intensely  interesting  a  detective  story  as  was 
"  The  Leavenworth  Case,"  and  when  that  is  said,  no  higher  compliment  can 
be  given  it." — Omaha  World-Herald. 

Children  of  the  Mist. 

By  EDEN  PHILLPOTTS.    nth  impression.     8°,  $1.50 

"A  work  of  amazing  power  which  plainly -indicates  a  master  hand." — Bos- 
ton Herald. 

"  Seldom  does  a  critic  come  upon  a  book  that  he  can  praise  more  heartily 
than  he  can  Eden  Phillpotts's  new  romance, — it  is  SO  full  of  life,  SO  full  of 
the  subtle  and  strong  influence  of  environment  upon  character,  that  it  leaves 
upon  the  mind  that  unity  of  impression  which  is  one  of  the  highest  attributes  of 
a  work  of  art." — London  Daily  News. 

Miss  Cayley's  Adventures. 

By  GRANT  ALLEN,  author  of  "  Flowers  and  Their  Pedu 
grees,"  etc.  With  80  illustrations.  3d  edition.  12°, 

$1.50. 

"One  of  the  most  delightfully  jolly,  entertaining,  and  fascinating 

works  that  has  ever  come  from  Grant  Allen's  pen." — New  York  World. 

"A  quaint  and  sparkling  story — bright  and  entertaining  from  beginning  to 
end." — Chicago  Times-Herald. 

"  Perfectly  delightful  from  start  to  finish  .  .  .  bubbles  with  wit  and 
humor.  .  .  .  Miss  Cayley's  adventures  are  simply  bewitching." — Seattle  In* 
telligencer. 

Dr.  Berkeley's  Discovery. 

By  RICHARD  SLEE  and  CORNELIA  ATWOOD  PRATT. 
Hudson  Library,  No.  40.  12°,  paper,  50  cts.  ;  cloth, 
$1.00 

Dr.  Berkeley's  discovery  is  a  liquid  which  will  "deve/op"  certain 
memory  cells  of  the  human  brain,  as  a  photographer's  chemicals 
"  develop  "  a  sensitized  plate.  Upon  each  tiny  cell  appears  a  picture, 
visible  by  the  microscope.  By  "developing"  the  memory  centre  of 
a  brain,  Dr.  Berkeley  can  trace  the  most  secret  history  of  the  being 
that  owned  the  brain  ;  can  see  the  things  the  being  saw,  in  sequence, 
from  infancy  to  death.  With  this  foundation,  the  authors  of  "  Dr. 
Berkeley's  Discovery  "  have  told  a  thrilling,  dramatic  story. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON. 


THE    HUDSON    LIBRARY. 


Published  bi-monthly.    Entered  as  second-class  matter.   16* 
paper,  50  cents.     Published  also  in  cloth. 


x.   LOVE  AND  SHAWL-STRAPS. 
By  Annette  Lucille  Noble. 

2.  MISS     KURD:     AN     ENIGMA. 

By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

3.  HOW    THANKFUL    WAS    BE- 

WITCHED.    By  Jas.    K.    Hos- 
tner. 

4.  A  WOMAN  OF  IMPULSE.     By 

Justin  Huntley  McCarthy. 

5.  THE     COUNTESS     BETTINA. 

By  Clinton  Ross. 

6.  HER   MAJESTY.     By   Elizabeth 

Knight  Tompkins. 

7.  GOD  FORSAKEN.     By  Frederic 

Breton. 

8.  AN     ISLAND     PRINCESS.      By 

Theodore  Gift. 

9.  ELIZABETH'S  PRETENDERS. 

By  Hamilton  Aide. 

10.  AT  TUXTER'S.      By  G.  B.  Bur- 

gin. 

11.  CHERRYFIELD  HALL.     By  F. 

H.  Balfour. 

12.  THE    CRIME    OF    THE    CEN- 

TURY.    By  R.  Ottolengui. 

13.  THE  THINGS  THAT  MATTER. 

By  Francis  Gribble. 

14.  THE    HEART    OF    LIFE.       By 

W.  H.  Mallock. 

15.  THE  BROKEN  RING.   By  Eliza- 

beth Knight  Tompkins. 

16.  THE  STRANGE  SCHEMES  OF 

RANDOLPH    MASON.      By 
Melville  D.  Post. 

17.  THAT    AFFAIR    NEXT    DOOR. 

By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

18.  IN  THE  CRUCIBLE.     By  Grace 

Denio  Litchfield. 

19.  EYES    LIKE  THE    SEA.    By 

Maurus   J6kai. 

30.   AN   UNCROWNED    KING.     By 
S.  C.  Grier. 

21.  THE    PROFESSOR'S    DILEM- 

MA.  By  Annette  Lucille  Noble. 

22.  THE    WAYS    OF    LIFE.       By 

Mrs.  Oliphant. 


23.  THE  MAN  OF    THE  FAMILY. 

By  Christian  Reid. 

24.  MARGOT.    By  Sidney  Pickering. 

25.  THE     FALL    OF    THE    SPAR- 

ROW.    By  M.  C.  Balfour. 

26.  ELEMENTARY    JANE.     By 

Richard  Pryce. 

27.  THE  MAN  OF  LAST  RESORT. 

By  Melville  D.  Post. 

28.  STEPHEN  WHAPSHARE.     By 

Emma  Brooke. 

29.  LOST  MAN'S  LANE.     By  Anna 

Katharine  Green. 

30.  WHEAT     IN     THE     EAR.      By 

Alien. 

31.  AS     HAVING     NOTHING.       By 

Hester  Caldwell  Oakley. 

32.  THE  CHASE  OF  AN  HEIRESS. 

By  Christian  Reid. 

33.  FINAL  PROOF.      By   Rodrigues 

Ottolengui. 

34.  THE    WHEEL    OF    GOD.      By 

George  Egerton. 

35.  JOHN    MARMADUKE.       By    S. 

H.  Church. 

36.  HANNAH     THURSTON.      By 

Bayard  Taylor. 

37.  YALE  YARNS.     By  J.  S.  Wood. 

38.  THE     UNTOLD    HALF.     By 

Alien. 

39.  ROSALBA.      By    Olive    P.    Ray- 

ner  (Grant  Allen). 

40.  DR.    BERKELEY'S    DISCOV- 

ERY.     By   R.    Slee   and   C.    A. 
Pratt. 

41.  ABOARD     "THE     AMERICAN 

DUCHESS."     By  Headon  Hill. 

42.  THE      PRIEST'S     MARRIAGE. 

By  Nora  Vynne. 

43.  THE    THINGS    THAT   COUNT. 

By  Elizabeth  Knight  Tompkins. 

44.  LONE   PINE.     By  R.   B.   Town- 

shend 

45.  THE    SECRET   OF    THE    CRA- 

TER.    By  Duffield  Osborne. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,    NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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